Uncle Carl: A Unique Individual

[In the course of going boxes looking for family photos with which to illustrator Naomi's family history, I found a copy of the reminiscence that my uncle Vincent compiled about his uncle Carl.]

CARL ALGOT PETERSON

1870-1968

Memories by Vincent T. Strand

Uncle Carl Algot Peterson was born in Illinois in 1879. His mother had been sent there from Gowrie, Iowa, a year after her marriage to her step-uncle (my grandfather). Grandfather Peterson had returned to the goldfields of Montana, presumably to earn funds to start farming northeast of the village of Gowrie. He had worked there for some years prior to the marriage.

Upon his return from his year in Montana, Grandmother Peterson insisted that Grandfather stay on the eighty acres that he had purchased, and there become a farmer. So Uncle Carl was the first of eleven children born to this family. The Peterson family history has been chronicled by my mother, and it is not my purpose to expound upon that. I was the one of the nieces and nephews who had the most contact with Uncle Carl during our adolescent and growing up years. Upon the suggestion of my brothers and sister and several of my cousins, I will attempt to relate remembrances from his life. I am sure that my recollections will not always jibe with others in the family. Our perceptions of events and people are quite varied, so I hope that I do not seem too positive at times.

In the spring of 1933, my own family of Dad and Mother Strand with six children made a move to the Peterson family farm home northeast of Gowrie. This move was necessitated by the fact that my dad had lost his job at the local bank due to the Depression. The decision was made to move to the farm and into the large rambling Peterson farm home. Grandmother Peterson had moved to town some years before, to a large, square, two-story home with a large attic, where she lived with several unmarried children, including Uncle Carl. As far as I know, Grandfather Peterson never lived in that house. He died on the farm in 1915.

At that time, I assume that Uncle Carl became the masculine head of the family which he held until his death in 1968. Since he was only 17 years younger than his mother, he was often mistaken for her husband in later years. I am also assuming that the house in Gowrie was his home from the time that it was built until he moved to a nursing home in Madrid in his later years. The house in Gowrie was built on a lot purchased by his father many years before. My understanding is that the plan of the house was much of Uncle Carl’s idea, including a sleeping porch on the south side, with casement windows on the southeast and west. This was Uncle Carl’s sleeping quarters.

Until the time of our move to the farm in 1933, my contact with Uncle Carl was typical of that at family gathering and the first years on the farm were similar also. We were four Strand boys ranging in age from four to twelve at that time. Looking at his nephews, it probably became apparent to Uncle Carl that he could use us on the farm. My father soon got a job in nearby Fort Dodge, leaving his sons to the instruction of Uncle Carl as to farm duties.

Uncle Carl had taken charge of the farming of the Peterson farm in 1926, when his brother Serenus quit farming to become a Lutheran pastor. He continued to farm the land until the farm was sold in 1959. He lived in town with his mother and unmarried sisters and a brother. He drove daily to the farm during the crop season. He was not interested in raising livestock and so during the winter months, the daily trip to the farm was not made. During the years that the Strand family lived on the farm, he ate the noonday meal with us.

His usual day began at 4:00 a.m. Breakfast was of a very standard variety consisting of oatmeal, a soft boiled egg, dried hard toast, a selection of sauce, and his usual glass of water. Until later years, I cannot remember his drinking anything but water, and that had to be at a temperature that he approved of, neither too hot or too cold. There was some indication that he would drink some cocoa or maybe milk, but I never saw him do this. Leaving for the farm between 5:00 and 6:00 a.m., he usually had nearly a full day’s work dome by 12:00 noon. He would then eat the noon meal with us, take a 15–20 minute nap on the leather couch, and then off to work again. The routine did not vary much from day to day. He returned to his home in Gowrie about 6:00 p.m., ate supper with his mother and siblings, and then read from various periodicals and newspapers until bedtime at 8:00 p.m.

In all the years that I was around him, he never took second helpings at meals, regardless of the quality of the food. He loved potatoes and creamed vegetables, and because of that, our noon meal usually included a creamed vegetable. he did not converse as he ate, so conversation at the noon dinner table was quite sparse. He also moved strawberries and watermelon, and during those years that we lived on the farm, there were strawberry and watermelon patches planted by him.

To back up a bit, I must relate a story of Uncle Carl’s romantic endeavors, as related to me by his brother Lawrence. One day as a young man on the farm, Carl told brother Lawrence that he was going to hitch up the horse and buggy and go to a farmstead about two miles east to ask a young farm girl for her hand in marriage. Lawrence, being a little more “versed” in the ways of the world, tried to dissuade him, telling him that it would be more proper to court the young lady for a time before making so bold a step. But, as I have often found out, Uncle Carl was of a very set mind, and so he proceeded on his “mission.” Unfortunately for him, the lady in question had already accepted a proposal from another young man. As far as any of the family know, this was his one and only romantic venture. He must have been observing the lady from a distance for some time, and bravely made this attempt at finding a wife. He remained a bachelor all of his life, and perhaps this contributed to his “set ways” and even eccentricity at times.

Needless to say, if the young lady had been available and had consented to marry Uncle Carl, the Clarence Strand family history would have been greatly changed. Uncle Carl would have no doubt ended up on the family farm, had a family of cousins for us, and the farm might still be in the Peterson family. Life is full of “what ifs” and if this even would have taken place, I would not be writing this story of Uncle Carl’s life.

As I looked through old yearbooks of Zion Lutheran Church where Uncle Carl was a member, it is noted that at various time he was a Sunday School teacher, and also a Deacon. In the years that I remember him, he was a faithful participant in the Sunday morning worship. He sat with his mother and sister in the third pew from the front on the right hand side of the church every Sunday. He never looked at the pastor during sermon time. His stewardship to the local congregation and the church at large was very generous. I can remember one time in the years coming out of the Depression, when he was asked to give a stewardship talk to the congregation. He calmly stated at the beginning of his talk that the ushers should stand at the back doors of the sanctuary and not let anyone leave. Needless to say, he had the attention of the congregation. I do recall sitting next to my mother as he asked the ushers to allow no one to leave. Her expression indicated that even she did not know what to expect from her older brother. Whether or not the message helped the congregation’s stewardship, I do not know. I do know that because of him and others, the stewardship of Zion congregation has beenm and continues to be very good.

In regard to his clothing and how he dressed, he had some very definite ideas. His work clothes were basically striped overalls, blue work shirts, and assorted jackets and sweaters. He would many times wear two pairs of overalls, the top pair being what he called “greasers” and they were just that! As winter approached, he had a layered look of jackets and sweaters, and as really cold weather began, he was a heavy tan mackinaw. In the summer, his head gear was a sun helmet and in the winter, a black leather cap with ear flaps. In the summer he wore no underwear, and in the winter he wore the typical “long-johns.”

The idea of tight-fitting clothes was anathema to him. As he grew older, this became more pronounced, and as I went several times with him to buy clothes, it seemed ludicrous. His dress shirt collars were at least two sizes too big, his trousers for his 32”–34” waist were purchased at size 40”. He never wore a belt so suspenders were absolutely necessary to keep his pants from falling down. And even with his shoes, the size that he chose were at least two sizes too big. But for all of this “looseness,” he never seemed to be ill dressed.

As years went by, he had various forays to doctors and hospitals, I accompanied him on many of these trips and tried to be as sympathetic to his complaints as I could be. He was quite hearing impaired as years progressed, and a trip to a hearing aid specialist was not very rewarding. He was convinced that hearing aid would restore his hearing to full hearing. He was finally convinced that this could not be true, but not before giving several specialists a very difficult time. I once accompanied him to an eye, ear, nose, and throat specialist for trouble with his throat. I frankly thought that he would die in the chair as the doctor probed his throat. At one time he was in the hospital for much the same problem. After about a week stay without much help, he was highly disturbed because all that they did for him was to give him some aspirin. I can still see him in the hospital bed with his nightcap on. Since he was quite bald, in later years he wore this cap at night to keep his head warm. He slept in the unheated sleeping porch in the Peterson home, except in the very coldest of weather. And he needed the stocking cap for sleeping there.