Uncle Reuben

Infrequently we would be invited as a family to Uncle Reuben’s for dinner. I don’t remember much about these visits except for two things. First, Aunt Agnes usually made rye bread instead of the modified whole wheat that my mother and Peterson grandmother made. I don’t remember disliking rye bread (as a child does with something that is new and unfamiliar foodwise) but it wasn’t something that caught my fancy either. Come to think of it, Anton Holmer’s wife Dora also made rye bread. Both Agnes and Dora were Telleens — perhaps it was part of their family background.

Secondly, Uncle Reuben’s house, though wired for electricity when it was built, didn’t have electrical service (this didn’t come until REA times in the Roosevelt era). However, the fixtures and switches hadn’t been installed so there were all over the walls and ceiling unsightly holes with the protruding ends of wires.

I recall as a young boy being out on Uncle Reuben’s farm during oat threshing time. One of my cousins, probably Clifford, was playing at threshing in a “toy” farm he had, using an old mechanism from the hay carrier in the barn as the threshing machine.

During the time we lived in Gowrie, the calf which our cow had periodically was as I recall usually given to Uncle Reuben or one of my cousins. I didn’t have much contact with my Strand cousins — Leonard (the oldest), Floyd or Clifford (the youngest). They were all older than I and all went to country school and though they went to high school in Gowrie, both Leonard and Floyd were out of high school by the time I was a freshman.

My uncle Reuben was blind (or at least blind except for being able to distinguish light and dark) in one eye. The accident leading to this blindness occurred in the blacksmith shop in Gowrie. A flying fragment (an iron chip?) struck his eye.

Another memory I have of the Strand farm was being on site when the big county tile was being put in. This large tile crossed the south end of my grandfather’s farm.

I also have memories of our family visiting the Anton Holmer family on a Sunday for dinner and a visit. Anton and my father had been friends as young men. Anton was the antithesis of my uncle Reuben. He was an immigrant and had made his way in life entirely on his own.

Grandfather Strand's Funeral

In the weeks before my grandfather died he apparently suffered minor strokes and became disoriented in his thinking, speaking of his “Tilda” as he had called my grandmother and wanting to go “home” which meant going back to the farmhouse on the farm. Aunt Hulda had care of him during the days I guess and various relatives helped out at night. On one of these occasions even Clarice was pressed into duty although she was hardly old enough to be capable of handling a ponderous old man in his mental wanderings. I don’t think this period lasted too long mercifully.

From his funeral I have a couple of vivid remembrances. The first of these was in the church, where, following the usual practice of the time, the coffin was rolled to the back of the church and the people attending the funeral departed, walking past the open casket for one last look at the deceased. The relatives were the last to file past the coffin. In Grandfather’s case, as the season was summer, a light net was draped over the open coffin to keep the flies (drawn doubtless by subtle evidence of mortal decay) away from him. The undertaker stood nearby trying to whisk the flies away with discreet movements of his arm and hand. I felt saddened, feeling that the whole affair was a rather inauspicious end to an individual that had fallen on hard times in his last days (more on this later).

The second remembrance was much more positive. As always at funerals the relatives and friends, particularly those coming from some distance, would come to the home of the deceased (after the cemetery service) and a late afternoon lunch would be served. At my grandfather’s funeral some cousins of his from Minnesota had come and one of these was a gentleman in his early 80s. He was a lively person for his age and described how the day before he had been out in the field “bucking” hay. His name was Bonderson, a name which we presently applied to a sprightly kitten we had on the farm. Bonderson was slight of build, somewhat stooped but talkative and personable. He had been accompanied by his younger relatives, one of which I remember as dark and rather saturnine in demeanor.

Driving with Grandfather Strand

The car our family used in the 1920s actually belonged to my grandfather — it was a boxy four-door Chevrolet sedan. My parents purchased an Essex four-door sedan in 1929 or so, trading in the Chevrolet and I think my father compensated my grandfather for it at that time. In the early 1930s, my grandfather acquired a two-door Chevrolet (but with two seats) and it was garaged in the garage constructed at the time the workshop in his backyard was re-oriented. I remember driving this car several times either for my grandfather or other relatives.

I remember only once my grandfather driving, probably the old Chevrolet. He and I were the only passengers and I think we had come from a funeral service at the cemetery) or at least some church or social function). We had been driving along the Gowrie Main Street (but west of the business section). The car was running out of gas and we just barely coasted into the gas station just east of the Beckwith apartments (these apartments were in the old school building replaced in 1923 or so by the present building which is still in use, though modified). There was some light conversation between my grandfather and me about how nearly we didn’t make it to the gas station.

After our move out to the Peterson farm we had less contact with Grandfather although it was often my duty after I could drive the family car to drive to his house after Sunday school and bring him to the church service which followed. As I mentioned he had increasing difficulty in walking in later years and I had to help him laboriously down the back stairs at his home, into the car and then up the stairs at church. I can see him still, sitting in his rocker in the kitchen (probably during the winter) waiting for me. I would help him into his overcoat and we would be on our way. Sometimes my father would do this. I don’t know if Uncle Reuben or my cousins ever did.

Grandfather Strand's House

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On one of my visits to Gowrie in the 1990s I was in a group of my siblings and we went to view my grandfather’s house. It was vacant and uncared for. Vivian and I stood on the porch and peered in. It was not long after this that the house was razed; I think I may have viewed the scene with it gone.

Before we moved from the little brown house out to the Peterson farm, we would periodically be invited to my grandfather’s for a visit, typically on a Sunday afternoon and there would be a meal associated with it, probably an early supper. On such visits we children were allowed in the parlor, where my father had his Victrola and the various records which I think dated from his pre-marital days. The records I recall included several Sousa marches (my father liked these and any other march music), one of Caruso singing and one or two “humorous” ones. Of the latter I can remember little except there was one funny tale about hydrophobia the details of which escape me. I don’t know why the Victrola was kept at my grandfather’s — lack of space at home? protection of a valued possession against us children?

After the move to the farm, the Victrola ended up in a small room off the living room of the Peterson house. (This room was I understand the bedroom for my Peterson grandparents.) Marold eventually got the Victrola when the furniture was dispersed after my mother’s death. The only other item I can remember from my grandfather’s parlor was a large picture of my father and his brother Reuben. Dad was standing with Reuben apparently still quite young (2 years old or thereabouts) sitting, garbed in a white dress. Dad was perhaps 5 or 6 years old and in a suit with short pants.


Clarence and Reuben (I’m pretty sure this is the picture my dad is referring to. Even though the dress that Reuben is wearing is not all white, the collar is white, and that is probably why my dad remembered the dress as being white. —LRS)

As to the meals on these occasions I recall little. About the only thing that sticks in my memory was that Aunt Hulda had apple pie and served it with cheese. I thought this quite odd at the time for cheese to accompany apple pie but Aunt Hulda seemed to think from her experience as a “domestic” that it was quite the thing to do.

Miscellany about Grandfather Strand

Physically my grandfather was of medium height and, at least in his later years, rather overweight. I think his hair when he was younger was sandy-colored (his brother August was red-haired as were August’s two sons — Ralph distinctly and Alger somewhat). But when I knew my grandfather his hair had grayed. Mostly I remember him with a full moustache although occasionally he would shave it off. The moustache would sometimes become involved in his eating. I recall him “cleansing” his moustache by carefully cutting off the offending hairs in his mouth and removing the gravy or whatever it was that had gotten on the moustache.


Grandfather Strand (and his moustache)

In eating he would often use the knife in place of a fork or spoon. My grandfather chewed cloves, I suppose to sweeten his breath. He was proud of his hands, as being well groomed and shapely. They resembled in shape my father’s hands as well as my own. When talking my grandfather had a tendency to elide syllables. For example, the automobile was “bile” and his wife Matilda was “Tilda.” Following the stroke that just preceded his death, he kept asking for his “Tilda.”

After he moved to Gowrie, my grandfather served as a member of the Town Council for awhile. He was also a stockholder in the Gowrie Co-op elevator. I think my father inherited his share in the elevator, as I did from my father. In retirement in Gowrie he still apparently participated in some aspects of the farm work. On once occasion he was driving a load of shell corn to the elevator. It was a warm day and whether he became overheated sitting on the wagon or whether he had a stroke is not known. But he fell off the wagon seat to the ground. After that I have the dim feeling that he was never as active again. This accident must have occurred in the middle to late 1920s, so thought I recall the stir this event caused I have no recollection of the details. As my grandfather aged he became less mobile and had difficulty in walking. Whether this condition resulted from his falling off the wagon or was exacerbated by it I don’t know.

During the time I was aware of my grandfather he did not have a cow on his lots to go along with his chickens, but it is possible that he had one earlier before I was old enough to remember. My parents did have a cow, however, as long as I can recall, and they supplied my grandfather and Aunt Hulda with milk, at least during the period when the cow had “freshened” (i.e., had had a calf and thus had the increased milk flow associated with the birth of a calf). It was one of the small chores of us children to convey a gallon of milk from our house to our grandfather’s periodically. I don’t recall if this was a morning or an evening chore but the path we took was west along the road leading out of town to the Albert Blomgren residence, through their yard, their chicken yard, my grandfather’s chicken yard and thence to the back door of his house. Instructions were always given to carefully close the gates along the way. The milk was always carried in a tin gallon pail, the kind my mother purchased molasses or corn syrup in, and which she saved for this function or for keeping cookies or for any one of other uses.

There was an alternative route that lay along the west side of the park, thence west along Gowrie’s “main drag” to my grandfather’s house but this route was proscribed. I really think now that my mother considered this route too exposed to danger to her young offspring and thus she specified the other route. This tendency to protect her young offspring against too much contact with the outside world was also evidenced in other ways which I expect to mention later on.

Grandfather Strand's Gowrie Property

When my grandfather retired from farming he purchased three lots in the western part of Gowrie, on the north side of the main street leading through town. On the middle lot there was an existing house in which he resided the rest of his life. The lot to the west he later sold to C. J. Johnson (co-proprietor of the Johnson lumberyard in Gowrie) who built a residence on it. The lot to the left (east) was for awhile a chicken yard and there was chicken house towards the back of the lot. The house on the middle lot was set well back from the street but even so there was space behind it for a lawn area, some buildings (shop, etc.) and a vegetable garden patch. Along the rear end of the lot there were several evergreen trees and some years my grandfather would donate one of these fairly good-sized trees for the Christmas tree at the church.

Like most houses of that vintage in Gowrie it had a front porch, and from this porch two doors led into the house, one into the kitchen and the other into a room which served mostly as a living room but was also used on occasion for dining. The kitchen was also entered from the back yard via a short inside stairway; adjoining this stairway going into the kitchen, was a stairway leading down into what I recall as a rather dark damp basement. There was also a “parlor” downstairs and one bedroom. Upstairs [were] a bathroom and other bedrooms but my recollection of this area of the house is quite dim. Off the kitchen was a pantry. There was an outhouse behind the house and this was normally used instead of the upstairs bathroom where the toilet did not always function.

My grandfather in addition to his farming skills was acquainted with woodworking and I can recall watching him work in his shop behind the house. In particular I remember him working on a playpen which he made for my mother and which she used to contain my brother Vincent as a child. The playpen was not collapsible as are present-day playpens and it was considerably sturdier. In use it would sit in the kitchen in the little brown house close to the door to the dining room. I have wondered sometimes if my grandfather was enough of a carpenter to have constructed some of the buildings on his farm.

I can also recall seeing my grandfather sharpening tools on the rotating sharpening stone he had. The stone was mounted vertically and was rotated by a foot treadle. Thus my grandfather’s hands were free to hold the tool he was sharpening. There was a little can with a hole in to bottom to drip water on the stone to enhance the honing action of the stone as it turned.



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Sometime in the 1930s the ship was turned 90° and a garage was built to the left of it. My grandfather bought a 2-door Chevrolet which I recall driving.

I believe that the chickens (these were not in my memory) were confined to the fenced area south of the chicken house.

Under the evergreen trees east of the house was a cool shady spot that I recall playing in.

The Farm Parcels

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None of the buildings that were on my grandfather’s farm when he moved to Gowrie in retirement still exist on site. The corn crib became too dilapidated and was torn down probably sometime in the 1960s. The house was replaced by a house built in the early 1960s. It was moved to Gowrie, renovated, and now sits on the SW corner of the intersection of the main street in Gowrie and the road leading south to the farm. The barn was damaged in a storm in 1984 or thereabouts (the roof was partly blown off and one side had collapsed) and was torn down.

When my father died, he left the farm, and I suppose the little brown house (though I am not sure about that) to his six children, stipulating that my mother would have the use and income during her lifetime. The little brown house may already have been owned by my mother — I think it had been transferred to her alone during the Depression.

After my father died and before my mother’s death she was given grandmother Peterson’s house by Aunt Esther and Uncle Carl as a sort of payment for caring for them when they were not able to do this for themselves. At my mother’s death all the property was divided [among] the six children. My share was somewhat less than 1/4 of the farm and we paid off the balance. We also acquired the 1/4 of the farm that Marold inherited by purchase from him (we paid him off over a period of years as I recall). Vincent acquired by inheritance and purchase the south half of the farm.