I was giving Buster a tour of SE Iowa. Out on the edge of Mt. Pleasant there was an old tumbled down shack, made of logs. Buster looked at it and said, “I could take something like that, fix it up, and live in it.” Ever since then, we called that old shack, “Buster’s Fixer Upper.”

Buster was visiting us from Colorado. He was on his way, in a round about fashion, to Montana, where he knew someone who was going to get him set up in the construction business. Buster had been a contractor in Colorado, and before that, New Jersey. He is full-blooded Italian. I never did know his real name, we just called him Buster. He reminded me of Phineas T. Bluster, a character on the kids’ t.v. show, “Howdy Doody,” full of fluster. Urumph, urumph. (This really dates me, I know.)

Anywho, on our tour of SE Iowa, Buster told me his life story. Growing up on the streets of New Jersey, and in his early days of construction work, he said he was discriminated against because he was Italian. He said it was a major problem in the union contracting business, and it had followed him to Colorado. I listened and took it all in. I had a little problem imagining Buster being discriminated against. He was such a likable cuss, full of bluster.

He told me a story I’ll never forget. He said he became so destitute because of discrimination that, on the verge of bankruptcy, he sold his soul to the Devil. Once he did this, he said, the turn around to financial success was amazingly quick. I was sort of dumb struck.

He said that once again in Colorado, he was facing the same sort of discrimination. His job site was vandalized, union laborers wouldn’t work for him, and banks wouldn’t lend him start-up capital. He was thinking about selling his soul to the Devil again, when he decided to make a change in scenery, and head for Montana.

He asked me what I thought. This is where I learned a major life lesson–never tell a delusional person they’re delusional. They will think you’re part of the “conspiracy.”

It was spring, and I took Buster to Geode State Park to hunt mushrooms. He had heard about tasty morels, but had never tried them. We tramped all over hill-and-dale, and did find the delectable elves’ caps–two gallons worth–some as big as Buster’s fist, which is huge! I showed him how, if you looked on the down-hill side of an old fallen elm tree, that’s where you found the morels. Buster was quite impressed and giddy with the thought of fried mushrooms in cracker crumbs and butter, which we had that night.

It was when we were hunting mushrooms that we entered a little clearing at Geode, and surprised a young couple making love on a picnic table. Buster got quite a kick out of that and, ever since, has called Mt. Pleasant (although this was Geode State Park) “The City of Love.”

I also showed him Snake Alley in Burlington, the Mississippi River Bridge and took him to eat tenderloins (something else he had never had) at Butch’s River Rock Cafe at Oakland Mills. (This was a few years ago.) He got a kick out of Butch’s sign, “Best Tenderloin By a Dam Site!” Butch had just won the Best Tenderloin in the State Award. We visited Butch’s on a Saturday, and Butch had a CW band playing outside that Buster loved. He also enjoyed watching carp jump at the Skunk River Dam, and kept saying, “Carpe diem.”

Buster left us and headed west with mushrooms on ice. A few years later we visited him in Montana. His “ranch” was out in the middle of nowhere, at the end of miles of dusty roads. We had to stop for a herd of sheep crossing the road, like a wave, followed by a black-and-white Border Collie hard at work. The sign overhanging the gate to Buster’s very nice log cabin and outbuildings said it all, “Buster’s Fixer Upper Construction Company.”

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Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526 or email him at curtswarm@yahoo.com. Curt is available for public speaking.