By Al Batt

Hartland, Minn.

(Freeborn County)

I was eating sweet corn on a cruise ship.

I knew I shouldn't have been eating it.

The food on the ship had been unbelievably good, but I'm a Minnesotan. I have been spoiled. The only food I found lacking on the ship was that sweet corn. I'm sure it was good, but I have high standards when it comes to sweet corn.

I once worked at Birds Eye.

We all worked at Birds Eye - at least, it seemed that way.

Working at Birds Eye was a rite of passage.

When I was between grass and hay and the heat of a summer day had fled, I would sit on the front steps of our old farmhouse and ponder the night sky. I would pay particular attention to the spaces between the stars and wonder if people in other parts of the world were seeing the same spaces and thinking the same thoughts.

It was while working at Birds Eye that I developed a lifelong addiction to Jubilee sweet corn and Cool Whip. Now, I've never eaten Cool Whip on the sweet corn. I stick with butter and salt on my Jubilee, but I have nothing against anyone eating Cool Whip on sweet corn. In fact, the next time I eat lutefisk, I am going to put Cool Whip, ketchup or gravy on it.

I was a compressor room operator at Birds Eye. My co-workers were fine people who taught me more than I will ever realize.

A friend and I began work at Birds Eye the same day. I went to work in the compressor room, a large area filled with giant, hulking machines that digested ammonia and breathed cold air that was used to refrigerate product. The hot air came out on the other end where we worked, but with all of the hot air I produced, no one really noticed.

I have fond memories of walking about the plant with a piece of litmus paper in my hand. I was looking for an ammonia leak. Sherlock Holmes would have been proud.

The day my friend and I began our employment at Birds Eye, the first things I noticed were these huge banners proclaiming 11,998,456 days without a loss-of-time accident. It might have been a couple of days fewer than that, but it was a lot. I went to the compressor room to do some light maintenance work because I knew one end of the screwdriver from another and could use a pair of pliers without doing myself any permanent harm.

My friend ended up doing something called "palletizing." That job consisted of grabbing boxes of Cool Whip and stacking them on a wooden pallet. He had not completed his first morning of work when, while enthusiastically doing his duties, he took a step back and was run over by a forklift. My friend ended up with a broken ankle. Birds Eye ended up with a worker's compensation claim. I ended up with the duty of helping to take down the banners proclaiming 11,998,456 days (maybe fewer) without a loss-of-time accident.

With my buddy on the disabled list, I ate alone at Murray's Cafe that day.

Birds Eye proved to be packed with friendly people. That was the only day I ever ate alone at Murray's.

I still look at those night skies and the dark spaces between the stars. They give me goose bumps, those places where the imagination goes.

I know there are others looking in the same places. They are constant reminders that I am not alone.

I don't live in New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles, but I love where I am.

It might be a place between the stars, but it fits.

And we have great sweet corn.