Written Correspondence

As her children left home, my mother corresponded regularly with those that had left. Usually she would write every week, at least for those who responded at more or less the same frequency and would send additional missives at anniversaries, etc. She never learned to type for all her letters were handwritten and she wrote separate letters to each of her correspondents.

I recall her once saying that she wrote about different things and happenings to each of her children so that a common letter would be unsuitable — at least it would not meet her specific goal. She would also send along with her letters, the letters she had received from the various of us. Pack rat that I am, I saved these over the years (along with her letters, of course). I don’t believe I adopted this practice until after I started working after finishing school. So her letters while I was at Iowa University and perhaps during my early days with Shell are lost.

One might well argue that this saving of old letters served no useful purpose — however in my case after we moved to Mountain View Retirement Residence I was able to go through the accumulation and return to my sister Vivian the letters of here which my mother had sent on to me. She was delighted to get them. I guess Vivian and I were kindred souls in reliving the past in this way. Perhaps after I have finished this writing of my recollections of my life I shall sift through all that I have accumulated (including those letters I have that uncle Carl saved during his days at business school in Des Moines), to freshen my recollection of times past.

My mother and her sisters and brothers, in later years, kept in touch by means of a round robin correspondence, until I suppose such time that the circle of siblings had diminished to only a few. She urged her children to adopt a similar practice and we did for awhile — I don’t recall just when or how it ceased. She would also accompany birthday cards to each of her children and grandchildren with a check for $10 to be used for whatever the recipient wanted.

Personally I often used these gifts for plants for the lawn and garden, and perhaps the plants are still growing and being enjoyed at 411 Bonnie Drive, for example. I recall specifically that I used the gift on one occasion for two Modesto ash trees for the parking strip in from of 411 Bonnie Drive. Those trees are now gone. When I put them in they were on the approved list of trees, but they had the characteristic of pushing up the sidewalks with their roots, and were later removed. Perhaps the city of El Cerrito removed the trees at the request of acceptance of the current owners at the time. When we drove by long after we left, and saw that the trees were gone, I felt a sense of loss as if a part of me was no longer there.



Google maps street view of 411 Bonnie Drive, El Cerrito, California

Although my mother was the principal correspondent, my father would on occasion write a letter. Most of those he wrote were in the period after the family moved back to the little brown house, but before his developing the Parkinson’s disease and the increasing shakiness of his hands made writing difficult for him.

As with my mother, the letters from my father were all in longhand. My father’s handwriting, though nice in appearance, was quite often difficult to decipher — I’d say the description “Spencerian” could be applied to his penmanship. Sometime in the 1920s my father had acquired a portable typewriter — a Remington I think — and I think he intended to type in a self-instruction program but he never did. I seem to recall him getting it out as on a Sunday afternoon and pecking away at the keys for awhile but he never developed any facility.

I think Clarice took the typewriter with her when she went off to school at the University of Dubuque. I acquired a used upright Remington about the time I finished high school. I’m not certain but it may have been a graduation gift from my parents (in lieu of the class ring which I did not purchase). It cost $15, and I dimly recall making the selection at a store on Central Avenue in Fort Dodge. This typewriter served Fort Dodge JC and SUI days and I think it eventually ended up in California. What happened to it I do not recall but it may have been traded in when I bought the Royal portable for Jean.

Clarence and Naomi—Late in Life

After my father developed Parkinson’s disease, life became more difficult for my mother as the physical part of caring for him was surely a burden on my mother’s physical strength. But the 1950s were years of companionship between the two of them, despite my father’s increasing disability. It was in 1953 that they were able to make a trip west to visit me at 931 Seaview Drive and for me to take them south to see Marold and Jeanne. My father died about 1961 and following his death my mother cared in part for the needs of my uncle Carl and aunt Esther. Eventually she moved to my grandmother’s house after uncle Carl and aunt Esther moved to the home in Madrid. These were all happier years for her.

My mother had two serious operations during her life — one for goiter during the Depression years and for her gall bladder in the later 1940s. I suppose these left their mark on her constitution, as did her childbearing and the physical demands of the years caring for my father. Late in the 1960s my mother could no longer reside by herself and I believe she actually moved to Friendship Haven in Fort Dodge. However, she was there only for a very short time when a heart attack caused her death in the nearby hospital. As I recall she had just had a bath in her room in the hospital, the nurse or attendant had left and when someone checked her a few minutes later she had died. She was not quite 80 years old when she died.

Finances and Quality of Life

My father lost his position at the bank by steps as it were. His stipend there had been $125 per month, and it was reduced by increments of $25 per month until it reached $50 per month from which level he was let go altogether. I can sort of recall when one of the reductions in pay occurred and he came home sometime during the day with the news. For some reason he did not go back to work that day but absorbed himself in some work around the yard — probably to keep his mind off the looming family problems.

After my father lost his job at the bank he worked briefly in one of the New Deal public works projects. I have some recollection of him leaving the house early in the day for this work — where it was, how he got there, etc. I have no idea. I seem to recall that it was during the colder time of the year as he was warmly dressed when he left.

The Depression years, after my father lost his job as bookkeeper the bank were years of worry and concern. As it turned out the family was never hungry, or without shelter, or unclothed, but meeting the needs of a growing family was a trying ordeal. One incident sticks in my mind, which occurred during my freshman year in high school. In some way my mother had broken her glasses and it seemed to her as the last straw. As it happened I had entered an essay competition in connection with my English class and had worn the third prize in the state, the sum of $5. I don’t recall what organization sponsored the contest.

Anyway I had my father convert my prize into five silver dollars. Seeing my mother in tears, I offered her my five silver dollars to fix her broken glasses. I suppose that that sum was sufficient to make the repair at the time. She declined the offer, though I have the faint recollection that she was somewhat heartened by my offer. What happened in the end to my five silver dollars I have no recollection. I suppose that my mother had her glasses repaired somehow or other but I can’t recall as to that either.

After my father started working regularly at the county treasurer’s office in Fort Dodge, the financial condition of the family improved — there were even sufficient funds available to buy the 1940 (?) Plymouth to replace the aging Essex. By that time my father had inherited my grandfather Strand’s farm so perhaps it was the income from that that bought the Plymouth.

After the war was over the family back to the little brown house and I’d surmise that the late 1940s and the early 1950s were about as easy a life for my mother was any in her life. She acquired a new range for her kitchen and had a refrigerator for the first time in her life. She also had an abundance of hot softened water because of the new water heater and softener in the basement.

My father had retired and there was sufficient income from Social Security and from the farm to comfortably meet their needs. By that time I believe that the indebtedness on the farm had been paid off. The children were all gone so that need was absent. Marold I guess was home during the summer months while he was away at college at Gustavus. Except possibly for his school expenses, none of the children needed any further financial help.

As I mentioned the debt on the farm had been retired and with Vincent farming the land it was a continuing source of psychological satisfaction to my parents, particularly my father. With Vincent on the farm, Vivian either in Fort Dodge, Des Moines or Ames, Clarice in Dallas Center, three of her children were close enough for easy visits. Verner, Marold and I were farther afield during all or part of this time but we would come back to Gowrie periodically. As my parents aged, Vincent and his wife Jean were always on hand to assist in household and financial matters. I do not think that I or my siblings have ever adequately recognized what the two of them did for my parents in making their declining years easy ones for them.