Category Archives: Passageways

New Book Release: Dakota Dreams and Hoosier Homeland by Daniel M. Cash

My latest book, Dakota Dreams and Hoosier Homeland, a work of historical fiction, has been and is available in paperback and e-reader format on Amazon.com. You can listen to my podcast about the book, featuring the book’s Prologue read in my own voice, on my Substack page. You can also read the Prologue below.

Dakota Dreams and Hoosier Homeland is the story of Clyde and Anna Cash, my paternal grandparents, set in the year 1915 between the communities of Greencastle, Indiana and Arnegard, North Dakota. My grandad Clyde tried his hand at homesteading at about that time in history. And, while I do not know all the particulars to his story, I have researched enough to have created a story that may represent some of the challenges and opportunities he faced. Meanwhile, back home in Indiana, his girl Anna (my grandmother) was patiently, or maybe not so patiently, waiting for Clyde to come to senses and come home. It was fun to imagine their correspondence and decision making.

The Dakotas will always have an imprint on my life, not only because of my grandad’s legacy, but due to my own time there over 100 years later. Writing this book became a way for me to to not only tell part of Clyde and Anna’s story, but to reflect on my own.

Here’s a preview from The Prologue of
Dakota Dreams and Hoosier Homeland:

When Clyde awoke on that early autumn day, he sensed the smell of smoke in the air. By now he had been on the prairie long enough to have heard about the dangers of prairie fires. Following the alert his senses gave him, he quickly went outside to scan the horizon.  To the southwest he saw a plume of smoke rising from above the land. It was the Lucas Johansen place. Lightning from the early morning storm must have ignited the fire.

Clyde wasted no time. He quickly dressed, grabbed an old blanket from his home, stepped into his boots and put on his hat, then high tailed it down the two-track from his place to the Johansen’s.  He jogged more than walked the ½ mile to their farm and saw on his arrival that the fire lay south beyond the homestead and barn lot.

Thankfully, Lucas and his brothers had already harvested the wheat crop earlier in the season, but the fire was making it’s way through the wheat stubble, threatening to move into the portion of the farm where the buildings stood.

Clyde took his place alongside the others, Lucas and Mrs. Johansen; Karl and Hans; Magnus and Marit.  He dipped his blanket into the bucket of water that had been hauled out to the field and commenced to fight back the flames where there was a gap in the line. Soon he was joined by his neighbor and good friend, Thomas O’Brien, who had also seen and smelled the smoke, and come to help.

The danger of prairie fires was something that had been expressed to both Clyde and O’Brien upon their arrival in the region.  Sadie Svennson had been the first to school them on this phenomenon once when they had seen evidence of such a fire off in the distance from Arnegard.

The arid nature of the climate, prevalence of wind, ample availability of surface fuel and ignition caused by lightning from summer storms often came together as a perfect storm for this particular disaster.  Too many homesteaders had been driven to ruin by such a prairie fire in the past, meaning that everyone came to the fore when such an event sparked nearby.  You never knew if you, your family and your farm might be the next victim.

So, in the best sense of the tradition behind the name “Dakota”, you went to help your “friends”.  You became an “ally” on the prairie, looking to assist in any way you could to get the fire under control, or to at least protect the farmer’s home and farm buildings, livestock and equipment.

After a grueling couple of hours fighting back the flames, the crew working against the Lucas’ Johansen prairie fire got the upper hand.  Assisted by the decline of the wind and consummation of the available fuel, the fire began to play out.  The fact that Karl and Hans had taken their work horses and plowed firebreaks into the field was likely the ultimate difference between winning and losing that day.

Clyde was grateful he had been able to lend a hand. But the event gave him pause. Once again, he was mindful of just how difficult this life on the northern prairie could be. There were so many challenges that could arise – insects, fire, wind, storms, drought.  He knew with winter on the horizon that some of the most challenging days were still to come.

“Come to de house for a drink of vater, Clyde Cash”, called Mrs. Johansen. “Ve vant to thank ye for coming to our aid today.”

So, Clyde joined the others to quench his thirst.  Mrs. Johansen brought out some sour dough bread with jam, as well. And the soot covered homesteaders, from oldest to youngest paused to give thanks for God’s protection and deliverance that day.

This was Lucas’ Johansen’s prayer:

“Ve tank dee Lord God for die deliverance. Yee brought us friends and family to fight back de flames and save our home. Indeed, as your Good Book says, ‘de flame sal not consume you’.”

As he went back home to pick up the chores of the day on his own homestead, Clyde continued to marvel at his neighbor’s demeanor.  The devout Lutheran Norwegian was something of an enigma to Clyde. He could be gruff, blunt and even standoffish. But other times his true metal and character, including his faith, shone about as bright as anything Clyde had experienced. 

Thinking then of the others who were part of that morning’s fire fighting crew, Clyde smiled to himself about the diverse cast of characters he had met on the North Dakota prairie. He knew he had another story to write to Anna about in his next letter.

© Daniel M. Cash 2025

You can place your order for the paper back or e-book version of Dakota Dreams and Hoosier Homeland now.

For more information or to receive email notices about my writing you can subscribe to my blog or substack page.

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Filed under Christian Faith, Community, Family, Passageways, Uncategorized

Halt the Summer Postmortem!

The end of summer’s lifespan has been once again vastly overstated.  Do not write her obituary just yet.  As we move into this third full week of September, and the meteorological end of the summer season is in full view, she has arisen!

We can feel the brush of her high 80’s hot air and bask in the bake of her high noon sun. Sure, the color of the palate has changed – highlighting browns and yellows now, but where sprinklers sputter the grass is yet bright green and growing.

Hummers and Monarchs may be preparing for migration, and who can say about the geese of Canada?  Most of them are now year-round pests. Sunflowers are still blooming, as are zinnias; and sedums are coming into their own.  This can be true even as the coneflower and black-eyed-Susan have gone the way of the day lily and iris.

A bike ride in the countryside shows soybean fields more yellow than green, and some even a crisp brown. The exception being the second crop group that grows green yet – shadowing out it’s wheat stubble bed.  

Some of the early corn has already been picked. Birds flutter out of otherwise drying corn fields, brown from the bottom up, as I ride past. They seem to say, “leave me be while I catch a late summer nap.”

The sun will set a fraction of time earlier this evening, and the rise just a tad later come morn.  We may awaken to temps in the 50’s, but they will be short-lived, climbing higher by the hour, like summer herself who has made a comeback.

It’s a last week, maybe two, in which to remember vacation days, holidays, pool and beach days, or fishing at the pond.  It’s a “Minnesota goodbye” summer offers – first from the front room, then the foyer, out the door and onto the porch, and finally from the drive.  “Come again” we say, “when you can stay longer next time.”
© Daniel M. Cash 2025

#bikeridephotography #backyardphotography

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Filed under Cycling, Holy Days, Passageways, Seasons

This Land

This land, emblematic of her multitudinous and flawed inhabitants
Consists of varied features with their own perplexing presentations.

Vast arid plains which alternate from winter’s frigid to summer’s sultry grip.
Mountain ranges of different heights and temperaments.
Great Lakes with deeply cavernous plummets.
Rushing rivers that carry away precipitation toward
Oceans of endless water, wind and strength.

From the swamps of Florida and the bayou,
To the wheatfields of the Palouse and breadbasket that is the Midwest,
America is a geography diversified.

Like the people who have populated her, migrating from various other places.
These people, taking over that which was not theirs, have often
Convinced themselves they can reject others who were here first, or those who would follow later.

The curvature and evolution of this land is ever changing
Like a great dune that is wind swept this way then that.
From Kitty Hawk and the Outer Banks to the shores of Lake Michigan and the
Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado.
This, but one example of change the land both knows, endures and welcomes.

Consider too, though on a longer timeline, the change of canyons and landscapes
Where rivers have been ceaselessly carving, time standing as witness.
Or animal species who once roamed in mass, only to face near extinction,
Sometimes reintroduced. Change and the land have gone hand in hand.

A reminder, during what is a fragile period, that this land oft withstood when it seemed she might not. Withstood weather, economic challenge, civil war, political division and corrupt leaders.
Withstood to stand another day, waiting in hope as for a new dawn.

Far from perfect yet persevering, the homeland seeks to host those who know it and those who would.
An oasis, but sometimes a desert, she can be fickle.
She calls for fortitude from those who would prove up homesteads and speak for justice.

Dream? Yes, dream.  To be a place where children of all skin color, language and creed stand hand in hand to voice a song, pray a prayer, or learn a lesson.
Dream? Yes, dream. To be a place that favors not just those who measure wealth by mammon, but those who know richness comes in many denominations.
Dream? Yes, dream.  Be a dreamer just like those who first came to these shores, and
Those who still yearn to here dwell and be free.    

Dream, and then sing, taking up the prayerful lyrics of ancestors to not give up on the: 

“Land where (our) fathers died” but “from every mountain side”
Let freedom ring!
“No more shall tryants here with haughty steps appear”
But “let mortal tongues awake” and “let all that breathe partake”
“Long may our land be bright, with freedom’s holy light.
Protect us by Thy might, Great God, our king.”

© Daniel M. Cash 2025

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Filed under Holy Days, Passageways, Poetry, Travel

A Spring Pronouncement

Sprouts of green emerge
from winter’s slumber.
Persistent and hopeful against
the morning chill and March wind.

A foreshadowing of what will be.
Emissaries sent forth as harbingers of promise.
Some have been peeking forth for weeks.

These annual signs of seasonal transition
are visual reminders of rhythmic renewal.
While transitory figures bluster, they steadily return
– bespeaking the more solid footing of creation.

This too will come to pass – shoots of green,
blooms of color, fragrances of life.
Just as that too will one day pass,
noisy efforts at influence and posturing as if . . . . .

One seems very much eternal and offers reassurance.
The other will not last – “vanity of vanities” says the
Preacher of Ecclesiastes.

“A generation goes and a generation comes,
but the earth remains forever.” (Ecc. 1:4 NRSV)

© Daniel M. Cash 2025

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Filed under Passageways, Poetry, Seasons

September Morn

Dawn breaks over dew laden lawns with the spritz, spritz of sprinklers.

Dogs trot past, humans in tow.
Those artificial green islands shine against the season’s dry, parched landscape.

Soon bikes and backpacks will overflow sidewalks,
as porchlights yield to a school and work day.

Garage doors open and close – signaling the neighborhood’s
release to pensioners and stay-at-home parents.

It’s a September morn.

© Daniel M. Cash 2024

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Filed under Community, Family, Passageways, Poetry, Seasons