Chapter Nine: The Sunset Years

As the years went by, the difference of 17 years in the ages of Father and Mother became more noticeable, perhaps even more so because Father seemed to age prematurely. Until his last illness he had always enjoyed good health, but for several years before his death he had retired from active work on the farm, and had left it all to the boys to manage as they saw best.

The maples and spruce trees which he had laboriously planted in earlier days were not beautiful large trees. He loved to sit in their shade on the front lawn and meditate. On what? Maybe dreaming of that visit to the old home land which he had long saved and planned for. But he never made that visit. He seemed so withdrawn from the family conversations and plans, as if they were something apart from his life. He preferred to live in the past.

In the summer of 1914 his health began to fail. Father had never had much faith in doctors and would not consult one himself. But when we consulted a doctor and described the symptoms, it was thought that he had cancer of the stomach.

In early November he became very ill and we were all called home; Esther from Bethphage where she was working at that time, and Lawrence, Milton and I from St. Peter. In order to catch the night train from Waseca we decided to hire an automobile to get us there. Very few cars were then on the roads; none of us had ever ridden in one of those “new-fangled contraptions,” and that was just 42 years ago. What changes since then!

We started out at 9:00 p.m. after evening church services, thinking we would have plenty of time for it was only a 30 mile ride. What a ride that was! Over the winding Minnesota roads we rode and rode for several hours, an all the time I got more and more car-sick, no doubt from nervousness as well as from the motion of the car bumping over rough country roads. About midnight the driver stopped on a lonely side road and admitted that he was lost and had no idea where we were. Seeing lights in the distance, he headed for them and we found ourselves in Janesville. After all the night train had lone since come through and there was nothing else for us to do but to take in at an unheated hotel and shiver in our beds until morning, when we were able to get a train for Gowrie.

When we came home we found that Father had rallied, but we stayed home until after Thanksgiving, when we three returned to school. Esther, however, stayed at home to help Carl and Mother with caring for Father, who lingered on until the next spring, when death came as a relief from his suffering on March 13, 1915. Had he lived until March 28m he would have been 70 years old. As we consider lives today, that wasn’t very old, but for many years he had seemed like an old man to us all.

After Father’s death Carl and Serenus carried on the farm work as they had been doing for several years, until the fall of 1917 when Serenus and Edythe were married and took over the farm home. Mother with yet a good-sized family, Carl, George, Ruth, Lillian, and Laurine, moved in to the new house in town, which that summer had been built on the lot neat her beloved church, the lot that Father had had the foresight to buy many years before.

That fall I had the chance to help Mother get established in the new home, for I did not plan to tech school any more. Ruth went to Gustavus to study music; Lillian and Laurine were in High School. I did not get to stay home long, for there was an acute shortage of teachers everywhere, and through some college friends I was prevailed upon to teach grades 7 to 9 in a two-room school up near Hector, Minnesota, until they could secure another teacher.

So much pf living and working, striving and achieving were packed into the 37½ years since that spring in 1880 when Father, Mother, and baby Carl came to live in the humble pioneer home on the farm. Ten more children had been born; one had died; Father now was gone; and most of the children were grown. In her new home in town Mother’s life was quite different. How much she appreciated being within walking distance of church. In 1922 Ruth came home from Minnesota to take up her work as organist and from that time on she was Mother’s faithful helper and companion for 19 years.

Mother was very happy to now live so near to church. The pastor’s family, living right across from the street were adopted as almost her own family. Her home was always open to welcome visiting pastors also, since Carl was for many years a deacon, and this was her way of helping in the work. Although now 55 years old, her health was better than it had been for years, possibly because her work was lighter.

Emma in middle age

But she was never idle. Her kitchen was her domain. She let Ruth care for the rest of the house. But she was busy also in the garden and picking berries until her fall and broken leg at the age of 86. In her spare time she wrote letters, loved to read, and also sat busily crocheting laces for numberless pairs of pillow cases. It truly was her hobby to give these lovely pillow cases to her children, grand-children, cousins and friends for any special occasion.

In the spring of 1931, when she was 69 years old, she was suddenly taken very ill with an infected gall bladder. Had it not been for Dr. Wassell’s diagnosis and prompt action to have an operation without delay, she would certainly have left us at that time. For this was long before the discovery of the wonder-drugs of today. Mother dreaded so much to undergo this operation but she made an almost miraculous recovery and after getting well seemed to have a renewed lease on life, and was in better health than before. In June she even was able to help plan, if not to actively work on, the preparations for Lillian’s wedding, Esther coming home from her work in Des Moines to help Ruth with the work.

When the depression of 1933 came, and Clarence lost his job at the bank, we thought it would be easier for us to make both ends meet by renting our home in town and moving out to the old farm home to live. Mother was very happy to come and visit us there and to see how liveable the old home still was, thought it had stood vacant and neglected at times when Carl had no one living there. There grew up a close bond between our children and their wonderful grandmother. It has been a great job to me that we were privileged to live near to her all those years. Carl still lived in town with Mother, but would eat his dinner with us. He often said it was as if he had a second home out on the farm. It was seldom that Mother did not have our whole large family stay for Sunday dinner after we had been to church.

Mother still had her family. At this time there were the four of them, Mother, Carl, George, and Ruth, with the others coming often. How she loved the home comings! But time brought changes. Since moving to town, George’s health gradually failed and he withdrew more and more from contact with folks outside the immediate family. Though growing weaker he persisted in doing his usual tasks such as mowing the lawn and helping in the garden. Death came to him suddenly and unexpectedly although he had become very emaciated and weak. He had a hemorrhage and died after a few hours on June 19, 1939, at the age of 56 years.

Ruth’s health had been failing for several years, but she was able to continue her work until a few months before her death. Those last months her body literally wasted away by a strange illness diagnosed as Oriental Sprue. Her death in March 1941, came as a release to her but a severe blow to Mother, who was now hearing her 80 years, and had become dependent on Ruth for many things. After Ruth’s death, Esther came home to stay and now she and Carl carry on in the home up by church after Mother’s death.

When Mother reached her 80th birthday it was our joy that all of her still living children were able to come home and make that day a memorable one. Mother was “A Queen for the Day.” Could she then look forward to a peaceful, tranquil, sunset of life? She remained in good health and very active for her years until the fall of 1948. Now 86 years old, Esther and I felt that Mother ought not to have to work with heavy work like the family washing, but always independent, Mother would not give up and this maybe led to her accident.

Emma at 85

For I determined to come unasked that one morning and help Esther in the basement. As always, I walked in without rapping, Mother still sitting by the breakfast table, got up to see who was coming. In so doing, she tripped on a rug and fell. She could not get up so we realized that she was badly hurt. Dr. Borgen confirmed this, her leg was broken, though the bone was not out of place. Always in dread of operations, Mother did not want to have the bone pegged and we hesitated to insist on it. So, for three long months she lay still in one position, waiting for the bone to heal. Esther had more nurse’s skill than I, but because of her arthritic hands, she was not able to handle Mother and care for her. With the Doctor’s warning that any false move might get the bones out of place, it was not easy for me to undertake the responsibility of caring for Mother. But she was so wonderfully patient and it was a privilege to do what I could. It did seem like a miracle when after those three months the x-rays showed that the bones had knit together.

At that advanced age it was very, very difficult for her to learn to walk again. She often felt like giving up but in time she was again able to be back at her usual duties in her kitchen, work she did not give up. She was disappointed that she was not as sure in her walking out in the yard, so her activity was limited from that time on. But she was able to be in her place at Sunday worship, with Carl’s help in her walking to church.

When Lillian died of the dread Hodgkins Disease in September of 1951, it was another hard blow for Mother, not almost 90 years old. She truly had experienced that having a large family brings much of joy and happiness, but also sorrow and bereavement. And so it was as we prepared the next February to observe Mother’s 90th birthday, there was another vacant place in her family circle. Although Mother retained her interest in life, and her mind was keen until the time of her death, the deaths of Ruth and Lillian were hard blows for her spirit. She missed them so much and often wondered why they were called home, instead of herself who had lived such a long life.

On her ninetieth birthday there were only seven children to come home and honor her. We tried to make it a memorable day, by arranging for an open house at church, with several of her older friends as special guests. It was a joyful occasion, for Mother had many friends who welcomed this opportunity to honor her. If I were to attempt to pay a tribute to Mother, I believe it should be to that true friendliness she showed to every one, and in turn she was loved by all who knew her.

On her ninety first birthday Clarence and I were in far-off California. I do think she missed us those four months that we were gone and I treasure the dear letters she wrote to us that winter, for she still could write wonderful letters. Then when we did return, and Clarence became ill, we did so miss our frequent visits up to Mother’s and I know that she missed our coming.

After New Years Day in 1954, Mother was not very well. Her own diagnosis when she got sick was always, “It’s just a cold.” This cold hung on for weeks, and she had to stay home from church services, as it was too cold her her to get out. But she was up and about her daily tasks even up to the morning of Jan. 26, when as usual she prepared her breakfast. Then she became nauseated and ill so she could not eat. Realizing that something was seriously wrong, Carl called Dr. Borgen. He noticed at once that her heart was giving up and suggested that the children be called home. But death does not wait. “It is appointed a time for man to die.” Only I, who lived near, had time to come home and be with her those last hours; when the others came, her spirit had gone home to God.

The merciful God spared her a long illness and suffering, and so we could not wish her back, much as we have missed her. Faithful to the end, one of her last concerns was that Jean should that evening at W.M.S. see that her yearly obligations were paid. Before evening came, her work in life was ended.

Ever since Mother’s death I have felt that some story of her life should be handed down to coming generations. I well realize others could have done this far better than I, but being shut-ins as Clarence and I now are, I alone had the time and I enjoyed trying to gather information, especially from Carl and Esther who remembered more than I did of the by-gone days, so I have done my best.

- Naomi -

Salvaged from the Peterson farmhouse by Uncle Vincent