During the summer months, after he had eaten his supper, Uncle Carl
sat on the front screened porch of the home. He would “digest”
the local newspaper, various farm periodicals, and the Lutheran
magazine. As long as it was published, he also read the “Augustana,”
a Swedish language church magazine. In later years he owned a small
radio, but television was never part of his life. The old oak rocker
that he sat in for these times of reading became blackened with age.
It is now in my son’s possession. I refinished it, and it is still
in good condition. The winter months forced him to be indoors for his
reading time.
I had returned to
farm my father’s farm south of Gowrie in 1951. During the first
years that I was farming, I worked with Uncle Carl during harvest
season for several years. This was of benefit to me since I had
neither a corn picker or a combine and his, though aging, were
available for use on my farm. It was difficult at times to work with
him since he wanted to be in charge. As years went by, I acquired the
necessary machinery and worked with him only occasionally.
After the Peterson
estate was settled, the farm being sold, Uncle Carl continued to live
in the large family home in Gowrie with his unmarried sister, Esther.
The machinery that he had brought in from the farm cluttered the back
yard. His time was spent gardening and taking care of the lawn work.
I can’t remember when the chore of hauling cobs to town for use in
the furnace ended, but some cobs were hauled from our farm. The
heating system in this house was a hot water system, and it was a
continual job to fill the fire pot of this furnace with cobs. He had
a special “banking system” of the cobs to keep the furnace
heating at night.
Sometime in the
mid-sixties it became apparent that his sister Esther needed medical
attention. She had had a mental breakdown earlier in life, and had
recovered from that. A recurrence of this necessitated placing her in
a rest home in Des Moines. After some months there with medication,
she became well enough to become a resident at the Lutheran Home for
Aged in Madrid, Iowa. Uncle Carl, who was never a “housekeeper”
or cook, found it difficulty to continue to live on in the big family
home alone. He walked across town daily to eat dinner with my mother.
This arrangement lasted for a short time, and then a decision was
made for him to also reside in the Madrid Home. He did not require a
lot of care at this time, although he had developed heart problems
typical of many who reach their 80s.
The one condition
that he stipulated for the move to Madrid was that my mother take
over the Peterson family home. She had lived alone in her own home
since my father died in 1961. Mother did not particularly want to
move, but decided to do so for the benefit of Uncle Carl and all
concerned. Uncle Carl gave her his shared of the value of the house
which was owned at that time jointly with his sister. This was an
incentive for my mother’s move. Uncle Carl moved to Madrid where he
lived the remainder of his life.
Before my mother
could move to her new home, considerable repair had to be done. The
house had not been painted inside or out for many years. The walls in
the kitchen were greasy and black from years of smoke from the
kitchen range. New aluminum storm windows and doors needed to be
installed, and the walls and attic needed to be insulated. Along with
a new boiler system for heat came a new radiator for the kitchen. The
old boiled had been patched and waterproofed by Uncle Carl way beyond
its normal life.
The
yard full of machinery and tools that had been brought in from the
farm were sold at auction. There was very little saleable furniture,
dishes, etc. in the house, but these were sold at the auction also.
His 1942 two-door Pontiac
was put for sale. All of these possession brought less than $1000.
These were the last of Uncle Carl and Aunt Esther’s earthly
possessions, other than their clothing.
I can’t recall
the year of the move to Madrid but it was sometime in the mid-60s.
Carl and Esther lived on there until they died in 1968 — Carl
before Esther. They had adjoining single rooms, and Uncle Carl spent
his last years looking after the special and financial needs of his
sister. A poignant memory of them is when we came one evening to
visit, and they were having evening devotions and were singing from
the “Hymlan Songer” — the old Swedish Lutheran hymnal.
Not one to live
easily under institutional rules and regulations, he continued to
decide things for himself. Although not permitted to have food in his
room, he would bring excess food from his meals in the dining room
and hide it in his shoes for a pre-bedtime snack. He continued to go
for daily walks and would walk on the highway early in the morning.
Calls would come into the Home from motorists who thought the Home
should keep him off the road. He would take walks to downtown Madrid
to mail cards and letters. One card that came to his brother Lawrence
indicated that he didn’t write the card until he came to the post
office. He wasn’t feeling well, and thought perhaps he wouldn’t
make it to the post office. But he did, and he lived on for a few
more months. His heart finally failed after several sessions in the
Boone County Hospital.
Uncle
Carl dies just short of his 90th birthday, and his funeral was held
at Zion Lutheran Church in Gowrie where he had been an active member
all his life He had led about as disciplined a life as any person I
have known. He had been a hard and steady worker. There were no
frivolities in his life. He ate sparingly and never drank coffee or
tea that I know of. His earthly possessions at the time of his death
were the few clothes he had, and miscellaneous personal possessions.
He had planned financially for his declining years with little extra
to spare. What was left of his financial resources were designated to
take care of Esther for the remainder of her life. Everything else he
had given away to family, Missions, and to Zion Church.
The Peterson family
burial plot was his final resting place in the cemetery west of
Gowrie. This plot included graves for his mother and father, three
sisters, a brother, and himself. He had made the decision that he
should be buried behind the Peterson monument. There was some irony
in this, since Grandfather Peterson was really the Patriarch of the
family. But Uncle Carl had taken over in this capacity for many
years, and although the gravesite in front of the J.P. Peterson
monument was available, it could just as well have been the final
resting place of one of his sisters or his brother.
It was our
responsibility to return to the Madrid Home after the funeral to be
with and console Aunt Esther, who was much like a wife to Carl in the
years after grandmother died. Among his few possessions was a
cardboard box of alarm clocks, parts of clocks, and various small
tools. He had become the clock repair man for many of the residents
of the Home. It was impossible to find out who owned what in regards
to the few clocks that were still intact. Whether or not he actually
had repaired very many, I do not know. But even to the end of his
life he was ever one to tinker and to fix.
When Jean, my wife,
and I were first married, I had rescued an antique clock from my
father’s garage that belong to my Great-grandfather Strand. We
asked Uncle Carl to restore this clock for us. With adjustment and
lubrication he coaxed it back to life. It was in good running
condition for more than forty years before wearing out. Now the
mechanical mechanism has been replaced by a battery operated quartz
mechanism and is still the time keeper in our living room — a
gentle reminder of Uncle Carl.
As I have written this story, it becomes very evident that Uncle Carl
influenced my life more than my own father did. Since my dad worked
day and night during my growing up years, we saw little of him except
at mealtime. Uncle Carl was always there, if not with meaningful
tasks, creating work to keep us busy. There was in him no time for
idle chatter or play. This was no doubt due to a great extend as
result of being the oldest of eleven children under very severe
financial conditions. Not that he did not have compassion and love,
but it could be said that his was more of a “tough love” kind. I
cannot recall ever seeing him express his love of siblings, nieces or
nephews by hugging or kissing, but the love was there! His financial
resources throughout his life were shared generously with others, He
was truly a very fascinating and giving individual.
Shortly before
writing this recollection of Uncle Carl, Jean and attended the 125th
anniversary of the Zion Lutheran Church in Gowrie where Uncle Carl
had always been a member. One morning we took a walk through the
Gowrie cemetery. It was truly a historical reminder of events in the
Gowrie community. Many who are buried there have made an impact. Not
only on this community, but on us personally. Parents, grandparents,
uncles, aunts, distant relatives, friends, and neighbors. Uncle Carl
was an important part of our lives and his community.
He left no direct
descendants, but did in a very real way affect in many ways our
perspectives and attitudes towards life. He could possibly have been
in any one of many occupations. I could picture him as an engineers
or a pastor (as were three of his brothers). I could not visualize
him as a doctor (heaven help his patients!), but he was a farmer of
quite varied interests. Not exceptional many times in quality, but
assuredly interesting in scope. I can never remember him voicing
great religious beliefs, but if the phrase is true that “you shall
know them by their fruits,” he was definitely a man of deep
conviction.
I treasure the
memories!
—Vincent T. Strand
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