In my work as a columnist, I certainly take pleasure. Pastor Scott’s sermon adds encouragement, and brought to mind a retired pastor I had visited days earlier.
E.T. Keller is the type of fellow who takes — and provides — pleasure in what he’s doing. He truly practices “Living the Moment,” which happened to be the title of Pastor Scott’s message.
E.T. is 81 and lives in Onalaska, Wis. He was pastor of two Lutheran churches in Pittsville, Wis., for 35 years before retiring in 1991. Since retiring, he has served several churches during clergy vacations, and spent a great amount of time with Messiah Lutheran Church in La Crescent, Minn., when it was without a full-time pastor.
Withstanding a few health problems, E.T. has carved out a new life. In fact, I prefer to call him a “wood master.” It brings a smile to his face.
These days, E.T. has a lot to smile about, even though “my agility is gone, and this has brought my activity down to mostly staying at home.”
As one visits with E.T. in his living room and kitchen, it’s difficult to understand that E.T. has a lack of agility for the presence of his carvings of fowl and fish. Assorted fowl cover a window ledge and hang from the ceiling of his living room; assorted fish and some fowl plaster the front of two side-by-side refrigerators and the side of the one not pressed up against a kitchen wall. His kitchen table is his workshop. His tools are minimal: a rasp, a couple of Xactos, a band saw and sandpaper.
His wood carvings reflect E.T.’s love of the outdoors. For years, E.T. and his late wife, Dorothy, and their five children did a lot of tenting from coast to coast. His children provided decoy carving books to help him more fully launch this hobby.
Fowl carvings include loon, ducks, geese, partridge, turkey, song birds and sparrows. Fish carvings, of the fresh-water variety, include bass, bluegill, catfish, crappie, perch and walleye.
E.T. offers: “I always have liked wood, and practiced the craft of carving a few hours a week before I retired. I find basswood most suitable when I carve for people who will paint what I carve.” Other woods used to create his fowl and fish are walnut, butternut, cedar, maple — anything that has an intriguing color or grain to it. “I get wood from friends who find it in dumps, or from firewood or driftwood. They know my needs.”
Why does E.T. do this? He answers simply: “Because I can, and it’s enjoyable.” Describing himself as a mechanic type of “wood master,” he explains: “I cut out and make things following a pattern. I draw out in pencil what I’m going to carve.”
He compares his craft to a whittler’s. “I marvel at those who can whittle ... who can see something in a piece of wood. I have a friend who can look at a piece of wood and say, ‘There’s a duck inside of this, and I have to get it out.’”
Today, E.T. is more into fish than fowl. “I do this now because it doesn’t take forever.” He has given away the bulk of his fowl carvings to Ducks Unlimited Inc.
E.T.’s benevolence fittingly characterizes his mild manner. He’s not into selling what he makes. “For me, selling isn’t fun. Giving my work as gifts is much better.”
His many recipients include the children E.T.’s son works with as an employee of county social services (he delights in sending along carved items for them each time his son visits), and craft sales at his church.
Should you visit with E.T., most likely you, too, will receive his work. Nearing the end of my visit, E.T. walked over to a refrigerator and removed one of the many magnetized fish, this one made of mahogany. “This is for you,” he said. A beautifully lacquered piece, it now occupies space on my refrigerator. I will treasure it forever, as I will the act of kindness it represents.
As I prepared to leave E.T.’s home, E.T. asked: “How many grandchildren do you have?” I answered, “five.” He then instructed me to go to the refrigerators and take one fish for each grandchild. They also share a space on my fridge — that is, until I take the time to deliver them.
Yes, E.T. has had to give up a lot of his outdoor interests: hunting, fishing, traveling afar, gardening, etc. He misses them, but he’s not bitter. On the contrary, he’s living the moment. “I can see people worse off than I am. I am so thankful for what I have.”
Such a fitting thought as we approach the season of Thanksgiving. It comes to us from a very sincere, nice man.
Larry Olson can be reached at lolson6311@charter.net or at larry.olson@lacrossetribune.com, or by mail addressed to the La Crosse Tribune, 401 N. Third St., La Crosse, WI 54601.

