Miscellaneous letters from childhood

Undated letter, circa 1927

Dear Aunt Laurine

I am in second grade this year. I get 100 in numbers almost every day. I have to learn long poems by heart. My arm is alright now but it took a long time. I had to go to the doctor. I haven’t forgotten you yet.

Much love from

Carl

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Gowrie, Iowa

August 13 1929

Dear Mamma:

I wish you would come home soon. Tuesday I was going over to Roberts [sic]. But when I came over there, they were away. I waited a little bit and then I went home. Then I went over to Harris’s and he had [sic] out to the Golf Links so I couldn’t play with Harris. So I went home. When I got home I went upstairs to draw. But as soon as I got upstairs I was told I could get an ice rem cone.

With all my love

Carl

[Note in his mother’s handwriting: When I was at Mercy Hospice for Marold’s birth. This is a precious letter from “little Carl.”]

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Sept. 6, 1929

Gowrie Ia.

Dear Laurine:

I wish you a happy birthday. I am only writing a few lines. Friday I help baby Marold for the first time. Boy it was fun!

Today I made an airplane our of boxs [sic], boards, quilts, bricks and etc. Vivian cooked food and Vincent and me drove the airplane.

A happy brithday [sic] and many whichs [sic]

from Carl

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Gowrie, Iowa

Feb. 21, 1932

Dear Laurine,

Thank you very much for the Valentine. I think it is very cute.

I am in a Flag Drill in school. We to act [sic] it out before the P.T. A. on Tues. night. Miss Moffett is drilling us and some of the boys weren’t good and they got it.

Guess what happened Saturday night. Our house nearly caught on fire. We had just put in some new coal and daddy had shoved some baskets to [sic] close to the furnace. They caught on fire. Mamma smelt smoke and thought something was wrong with the draft. When she was pulling on the chain she saw something red thru a crack. She whizzed downstairs and grabbed a pail of water which daddy was going to give to the cow. She threw the water on it and nearly extinguished it. Daddy was in by this time and we got it out. The [sic] were near a door and is was so hot it nearly was on fire.

I am getting along O.K. in school. We are having history now instead of hygiene. It is ancient history. For a while I wasn’t getting along so good in arith. but I got a hundred which brough my grades up.

A 1,000 kisses &

” ” hugs to you from

Carl

Chapter 8: Our Dreams — Our Lives

As each one of us reached the age of decision, various dreams and visions came to us. Some grew into reality in our lives, some did not. Carl, being the oldest, was the first to try his wings, when at the age of 19 he decided to accompany Gottfried Callerstrom and enroll at Gustavus Adolphus College at St. Peter, Minnesota. Gottfried had completed High School at Gowrie, while Carl had only finished eighth grade of rural school. Still they entered the same class, III Academy, and Carl was able to carry a heavy load of studies, which included Civics, Physics, Second Year Latin, Greek, Algebra, Geometry, English and Swedish. In April he even was able to take final examinations early, so he could go back home and help with the farm work. He did not return to G. A., not because he found the studies too hard, but he dreaded what might lie ahead as a career. Gottfried continued his studies and entered the medical profession. Incidentally, comparing costs with those of today, Carl’s total expenses for one year then were $169. 

With modern speeds we think nothing now of making the round trip by car to St. Peter in one day. In 1898 it was felt that it was too far for the boys to go home even for the Christmas holidays. A box from home was sent to them to break their lonesomeness. Christmas Eve was brightened for those who had not gone home, when Dr. Wahlstrom, the President, thoughtfully invited them all to his home for the evening.

Carl spent some years helping on the farm. Later he taught country school. Then he decided to again go off to school, this time to Highland Park College in Des Moines, where he studied Shorthand and Typewriting. The job he got in Des Moines was not hard, but rather unsatisfactory, so he went to St. Paul hoping for better success there. When nothing turned up, he got work as carpenter up in Minnesota for the summer. That fall he was asked to again teach school in District No. 8 so came back home. After this, his work varied — running the several threshing rigs and for many years renting the Woodard farm, while helping the younger boys with the management of the home farm.

In 1903 Esther dissatisfied with her work as town seamstress at the low pay of 50 cents a day, decided to study as Carl had done at home and get a teacher’s certificate and so better her condition, both as to work and salary. For a rural teacher received $30 or better each month, depending on what grade of certificate one had.

She kept on with her teaching until after Laurine was born. Then I was fourteen and old enough to help Mother and she felt she was not needed at home. She left home in 1904 to enter Deaconess training at Immanuel Deaconess Institute. Since she was a young girl she had felt the call of the Diaconate, and it was indeed a crushing blow to her hopes and dreams of service as a Deaconess, when after five years she suffered a nervous breakdown caused by over-work.

After her recovery from this illness she never felt that she was strong enough to resume work as a Deaconess, and her life has been filled with more ordinary work. Wherever she has been, she had been a most wonderful efficient helper; at times as house maid in Des Moines homes, but also at the Old Folk’s Home in Madrid, Children’s Home in Stanton, at Bethphage, and also for some periods of time at Immanuel. When needed she would come home and help out. Truly she helped me so much while the children were small, I feel I can never fully repay her.

In later years her once so skillful and capable hands have been badly crippled by severe arthritis, which has also affected other parts of the body. With an indomitable will and purpose to not give up and become an invalid, she has kept active in spite of pain and handicaps. Now, after Mother’s death, she has been able to do the necessary house work for Carl and herself in the old home.

Although George never enjoyed the good health and strength that the rest of us did, he was an able pupil in school and later he even wanted to try to go to school and take up a business course. However, after only one term at G. A. he had to give it up. Incidentally it is interesting to note that all of us, except Serenus and Esther, studied at Gustavus at some time.

Of a nervous and timid nature George did not like to do any work that involved taking responsibility. It bothered him even to have to drive a team of horses; but he could and did do other labor on the farm, even digging tile ditches at times. In later years he became moody and depressed and after moving to town he was a semi-invalid for many years. It took much Mother-love to try to give the help and understanding needed in those later years of his life until his death at the age of 56.

After completing the eighth grade in District No. 9, Lawrence was happy to stay and work on the farm until at the age of 20, he felt the call to study for the ministry. In 1908 he enrolled at Minnesota College in Minneapolis, then an academy of the Augustana Synod, but later discontinued. While there he received valuable training in congregational work as assistant to the Rev. August Seashore, pastor at Grace Lutheran. He worked at the building up of Home Mission work at both Lebanon and Bethany, now large congregations in Minneapolis.

Not having had a high school training, those years at Minnesota College added to later college and seminary study, seemed a long, long road to travel, and he faced a very difficult decision. He had always liked work on the farm and as he looked ahead to those many years of study before he could reach his goal, he was very much tempted to give up his dreams and go back to farming. Many were the discussions he had with Mother as she was finishing her evening’s work in the hot little summer kitchen after the rest of the family had gone into the more comfortable rooms of the house. In the end, his pathway lay straight ahead toward his early goal and in 1912 he enrolled at Gustavus to continue his schooling.

In 1919 he was ordained and in June that year he and Dagmar Paterson of Little Falls, Minnesota, were married. Their home has not been blessed by any children, but he has often said, “All the children of our church are our children.” Also the nephews and nieces have been close to their hearts. He has served in parishes in Milaca and Bock, Braham, and Ebenezer in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and for the last twelve years in Albert City, Iowa, Mow nearing retirement age, he has been active in the planning and building of a beautiful church unit which was dedicated last spring. Their hopes are for a little home in Gowrie upon retirement, and we all are for that!

What of my own dreams? Since early years I had always loved to read, more than doing beautiful fancy work as did Mother, Esther, and Ruth. Next to that I loved to plant garden and flowers, and to see things grow. My earliest ambition was to be a Seeds woman like Emma V. White, who ran advertisement in our papers of that day.

But after my period at home as Mother’s helper it seemed the natural course for me to get a certificate and teach country school as Carl and Esther had done. I loved teaching, but after two years I felt the need of better schooling if I should continue that work. So in 1913, at the age of 23 years, I enrolled at the Academy at Gustavus. It was not easy to be classed with those youngsters of first class in Academy after being a school teacher, but I have felt that those years at Gustavus have been of great value to me. Carl Knock was then at the head of the Academy. Years before he had been my favorite teacher in country school. With his assistance in planning my work, I was able in three years to complete the Academy work, and most of the freshman work in college.

Lawrence had succeeded in getting for me as a room-mate that first year a senior girl, Dagmar Peterson. Some years later she became my very dear sister-in-law, Lawrence’s wife. Although she and her friends were near the top rung of the ladder of learning, and I, thought older than most of them, was at the very foot, they welcomed me as one of their group. They taught one something not offered in the school curriculum; I learned how to play. In other words, the hikes into the lovely Minnesota River woods, the picnics, the little dormitory parties, when some one got a box from home all opened me to a wonderland I’d never dreamed of.

Those were wonderful years, but now other plans came into my life. I came back home for one more year of teaching in the home school, but my heart was not fully in my work any more. Even before I went to Gustavus our mutual interest in church and school work had made Clarence and myself very good friends. I may be true that “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Our friendship ripened into love and so it was that in March 1918, I came back from Hector, Minnesota, where I had supplied as teacher for some time, and we were married.

We bought a little home, enlarged it several times to make room for our growing family. We had it all paid for and the future looked bright for us. Then came the depression. In 1933 Clarence lost his job at the bank. No other jobs were to be had. With eight mouths to feed and no income at all, it was Mother and Carl who came to our help, suggesting that we move out to the old farm home. We rented out our lovely town home for the big (?) sum of $15 a month. That gave some income regularly, but not enough. Clarence even worked at W.P.A for some months to eke out our income. Those were hard times, but we didn’t starve on the farm. For fifteen years we lived there in the old home, Clarence commuted to Ft. Dodge and helped many of the young folks of the neighborhood get a start in Junior College by providing free rides.

In turn help came to our own children in various ways, so all were able to get a college degree and are now engaged in useful work and in homes of their own. Being more or less shut-ins these last three years we enjoy our home in town and the homecomings of our loved ones.

It had almost been taken for granted that brother Serenus was the farmer of the family. What further schooling he had had was agricultural in nature. When he and Edythe, a neighbor girl, were married in 1917, he took over the farm. Serenus embarked on quite a different kind of farming than when Father was at the helm. He was interested in scientific farming and pioneered in raising pedigreed hogs, even to erecting a heated sales pavilion for special sales. Seemingly he was ahead of the times. Farmers liked good hogs, but were not educated as to what they were worth, and at times his efforts were discouraging.

In the spring of 1926 Serenus decided to quit farming. Their only son, Eugene, was six years old when they moved to Texas, partly to seek a warmer climate; but after living in Ft. Worth for about two years, that which may have been the underlying reason for leaving the farm, crystallized into action. In January 1928 he enrolled at Augustana for a shortened course in preparation for the ministry and in 1932 Mother had the joy of seeing her third son ordained as pastor. He has served faithfully and well in parishes in Evansville, Minnesota; Fresno, California; and Denver, Colorado; and at present is pastor at Mason City, Iowa.

After Serenus quit farming Carl took over the farm and now for 30 years has continued farming, driving out from home in town daily when the farming season is on. During the fifteen years that we lived on the farm, our boys worked for him during vacations. Now at 77 years of age, Carl still does not feel that he is old enough to retire, as we often have suggested that he should. Frugal in his own wants it has been his joy to help others, and especially to give generously to Home and Foreign Mission work.

From early childhood Ruth had a love for music. She learned to play the piano from learning the notes in her public school music which was just at that time being introduced into the school curriculum, and which a rural teacher of eight grades had not much time to stress in her teaching. Very nimble with her hands, Ruth did lovely fancy work and sewing, but music was her very life.

Thus it was only natural that she should go to Gustavus and study music, especially pipe organ. In 1920 she got her certificate in pipe organ, but since at that time the church in Gowrie had an organist, she looked else where for a position, and served in Bernadotte, Minnesota, for some time. Then she studied at L.B.I. for one year before she came home to Gowrie in 1922, to take up the work she loved and so faithfully performed as organist of Zion until her illness and death in 1941 at the age of 46 years.

It may be of interest to hot here that her salary never exceeded $300 a year. Had she been money minded she might have rebelled at this pittance. Since she lived at home and helped Mother she had enough for her personal needed and so got along on the $25 a month. She was happy and content to serve the Lord with her music, while also faithfully taking an active part in every organization of the church.

As a boy we used to call brother Milton a book-worm, for he was never happier than when his nose was buried in a book, and then he was oblivious of anything that went on around him. Unlike the other boys he never cared for farm work, though he did what was required of him when he was at home. In fact, one summer when on vacation, he tended one of Carl’s Hart Parr engines on one of the threshing rigs, and did it well. But he never learned to milk a cow! Lawrence relates of how when he and Serenus were doing the milking, Milton would perch in the manger and read aloud to them.

Times had changed. Milton was the first one of us to have the opportunity of attending the High School in Gowrie after completing eighth grade in District No. 9. There was no consolidation as yet, so Milton, and later Lillian, both enrolled as tuition students. When it was not possible for them to drive back and forth to the farm, they boarded at Albert and Marie Renquist’s home. In the fall of 1914 Milton enrolled at Gustavus, where then both Lawrence and I were attending. When he graduated from college it was his ambition to study law, which he did for one year. Mother was not happy over his decision for in her concept of things, “A lawyer was certain to be a liar.” Maybe it was an answer to her wishes and prayers when after that one year of law study he changed courses and decided to study for the ministry.

As a pastor, as teacher and as an author, he has contributed much to the work of the church. His published books are: People Are Asking and More People Are Asking which are compilations of answers to many questions which were first printed in a column in our church paper. Other books are: Holy Garments, The Psalms, and Studies in Isaiah.

After his ordination in 1923 he served as pastor at Anoka, Minnesota, for three years, then from 1926–1928 he did graduate study at Princeton Seminary and Chicago University Divinity School; From 1928–1931 he was instructor in Old Testament at Augustana Seminary; then again took up work as pastor, serving First Church, St. Paul, Minnesota, until he began teaching at Luther Seminary in St. Paul in 1941.

Much is being discussed these days about Lutheran Unity. Milton’s life presents a rather unique experience in this important sphere. While still pastor at First Church (Augustana Synod) he taught one class in Dogmatics at Luther Seminary (E.L.C.) and a class in Old Testament at Augsburg Seminary in Minneapolis (Lutheran Free Church). At the same time he served on the Board of Directors for Augustana College and Theological Seminary. Since 1941 he has been Professor of Old Testament at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, and has now affiliated with the E.L.C. Synod.

In June 1923 he was married to Euphemia Swanson of Gowrie. Their youngest son Donald is still studying at Gustavus. The other four are now grown and in homes of their own. They have four grand children.

We do not know when the dream first came to Lillian that she should be a Missionary. After graduating from Gowrie High, and two years study at I.S.T.C. in Cedar Falls, she taught grade school for three years, before enrolling at L.B.I. where she studied for two years. From there she came to Gustavus to complete her college work.

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After graduation from college, at the age of 25 years, she was sent to China as a Missionary Teacher. However, she was there less than two years, as all missionaries were then called back home because of the unrest and anti-foreign sentiment that arose in China at that time.

After several years of teaching Junior High in Dayton and in Gowrie, God guided her into another field of service, for when missionaries were again allowed in China, she felt she was too old to learn the Chinese language. During her stay in China she taught in the school for the missionaries’ children, and had to opportunity to study the Chinese language. So it was that in June 1931, she was married to the Rev. Verner A. Granquist and she began her real life work as pastor’s wife, a mission she so ably fulfilled, as helper in the church work and as the mother of three children.

God’s ways are not our ways. It is hard to understand, but the light of eternity will reveal to us why she should be called to lay down her life work at the age of only 51 years, leaving her husband and children to carry on alone. After five years it is wonderful to see her children all dedicated to special work in God’s Kingdom: Phoebe as the wife of a Seminary student, and Ted and Luther both preparing for the ministry.

When Laurine graduated from High School in 1921, she did not at once enter college. Instead she stayed home for a year to take her turn as Mother’s helper until Ruth came home in 1922 to take up her work as organist and also help Mother. Then Laurine went to L.B.I. for one year, and in 1923 Esther prevailed on her to be her assistant at the Children’s Home n Stanton, Iowa, for a year.

So it was not until the fall of 1924 when Lillian was a senior at G.A. that Laurine enrolled as a freshman there. In her sophomore year she took ill with a bad attack of the flu, and had to give up school for a while. However, the next fall she entered I.S.T.C. in Cedar Falls for the two year normal course.

After two years of teaching at Newhall, Iowa, she went back to I.S.T.C. and in 1931 received her B.A. degree, ten years after finishing High School. Then followed three years of teaching at Algona, and two years at Gowrie. In the fall of 1936, out of the blue sky, as it were, came the offer of a teaching position in the public schools of Dubuque, Iowa. In Dubuque she embarked on a long and successful career as primary teacher, serving there for 16½ years. During these years she helped our girls, both Clarice and Vivian, by offering them a home with her while they studied at the University of Dubuque.

With this background of teaching experience, she was urged to apply for the position at Luther College as “teacher of teachers-to-be,” and since January 1953 has served as Director of Teacher Education and Placement there. She bought a nice little home which she shared with a dear friend and fellow-teacher, Anne Blanchard. However, this fall (1956) she lives alone, as Anne accepted a position out in New York. In August 1956, after three years of summer school work, she received her Master’s degree in Education, from the University of Nebraska.

As I have tried to relate our various life stories in sequence, it has been like piecing together a jog-saw puzzle, and perhaps a rather confusing picture has been the result. It has not been my purpose to go into all the details, but rather to sketch the out reach of Mother’s influence in our lives. For as a heartline she encouraged us all by her prayers, her admonition and any help that we needed, that each of her children might find his or her place of usefulness in God’s Kingdom.

Aunt Laurine

I come now to the youngest of my grandmother’s children, aunt Laurine. She was born in 1904 and her early life was doubtless not marked by the hardships and rigors that her oldest siblings experienced. I suppose she attended country school, but she was still in elementary school when the family moved into Gowrie about 1915 when my grandfather died. So I suppose some of her grade school years may have been in the Gowrie school as well possibly her high school years. Her college years may have been spent at Gustavus or at Iowa State Teacher’s College.

She was either a teacher in the primary grades, at various places in Iowa with the last and longest period in the Dubuque schools, or as an instructor in the field of education, first at Luther College in Nebraska and later on at Gustavus in St. Peter, Minnesota. I think Luther College was the same school where Verner had one or two years at the start of his college training. I believe it was a two-year school.

Like her siblings, Laurine was quite an intelligent person and my understanding was that she was an excellent teacher. Like her siblings however her personal development was hampered by her unusual piety and her unswerving commitment to her religious beliefs that colored her adaptation to society in general. She was a life-long spinster. I doubt that there was ever a man in her life that was attracted to her. I think she would have liked to have been married and perhaps she would have been a less self-centered person which I think she was. And at times a bit of a hypochondriac.

I suppose I shouldn’t judge her that way. She certainly contributed to the educational opportunity of both Clarice and Vivian by providing them with board and room while they attended the University of Dubuque. I well recall the trips taking Clarice and Vivian to and from the school there. Dubuque was a very old town, hilly and picturesque on the banks of the Mississippi river and my memories of it are quite positive.

Personally, one thing I recall of her generosity — she gave me a nice Sheaffer pen and pencil set when I graduated from high school. The pencil still works though I never use it. The pen is broken though I still have the pieces. It ceased to function at one point and in attempting to take it apart to determine and rectify the trouble I broke it.

I have mentioned in passing the few times when our paths crossed over the years since I finished at Iowa and left home for good. In later years in connection with her work at Gustavus she needed to be able to drive and she did so — I think the only one of my grandmother’s daughters that did. I’m not sure if I ever rode with her but I gather she wasn’t as careful a drive as she might have been. During her years at G.A. she bought her own home there which I think was a source of enjoyment to her. When she could no longer maintain herself independently she moved to Friendship Haven where she lived out her days. I recall Vincent saying that her funds ran out just at the time she died.

While there she did something for me for which I am most grateful — namely the translation into English the Swedish letters which came to my attention after the visit of Verner and Marlys to Sweden. These letters had been sent to me by a cousin of my mother’s after I wrote to him about them. Aunt Dagmar who was also living at Friendship Haven at the time assisted in some places where the translation was difficult. A few of the letters were translated by Ruth Strand, the wife of one of my father’s cousins, Olger Strand.

Aunt Lillian

Aunt Lillian was the second youngest of the children in my grandmother’s family and when I was first aware of her she was in China acting as a teacher for the children of the missionaries second by the church. I’m not sure how long she was there, whether it was longer than a single tour of duty.

On her return from China she taught in the school at Dayton (about 8 miles south and east of Gowrie) and while she was there she would often return to Gowrie on weekends. Often my father would drive to Dayton late on Friday afternoons and bring her to Gowrie — I can remember riding along for the drive and I can still sort of picture vaguely the house she roomed in in Dayton.

The last year she spent teaching was in Gowrie. She had the sixth grade the year I was in fifth grade. The following summer she was married to uncle Verner. I recall the wedding — at least the dinner that followed in the evening after the ceremony. The children were relegated to eating on the front porch — the adults occupied the dining room table, perhaps extended to handle the number of people present, by some makeshift extension into the parlor.

Uncle Verner was also an ordained pastor in the Lutheran church and he served first in Florida and later in Isanti, Minnesota. While they were in Florida they would make the trip back to Gowrie every other year. As I have written earlier I visited them in Isanti sometime in my youth — I can’t pinpoint the date. I think it was at Isanti that aunt Lillian died from Hodgkin’s disease or it may have been later when they were at a pastorate in Michigan (Iron Mountain?).

We children liked uncle Verner — he was an easy-going extrovert and surely had a way with children. I remember once when he took us on a walk, beginning at the little brown house, north to the M and St. L tracks, then west to the road bordering Gowrie on the west and thence back to the little brown house. This may have been even before his marriage to aunt Lillian.

On one of his periodic trips back to the Midwest from Florida, uncle Verner was giving a number of presentations, probably with respect to the home mission he was involved with in Florida. I think the congregation he served in Florida was supported by home missions. He needed someone to handle the slide projector he was using in one of his talks and he asked me to assist him. The talk was at one of the towns neighboring Gowrie, Boxholm, and we got back to Gowrie at the (to me) unearthly hour of 11 p.m.

Aunt Lillian was an individual of a rather slight, willowy build and of a pleasant demeanor and an easy way with people. Like her sisters (except for aunt Laurine) she wore her hair with a little bun at the back of her head. Like her sisters her blond hair had grayed early and was almost white at the time of her decease (late 40s or early 50s).

One facial expression characteristic of aunt Lillian sticks in my mind. Whenever there were the usual devotional reading and prayers after a meal or when the conversation turned to matters religious, there came on her face this look of solemn, almost implacable piety, with a slight pursing of the lips, a kind of intent expression, even almost manic, to the eyes and brows. It was an expression exhibited to a degree by all her siblings under such circumstances. It was as if they were worshiping not so much the content of the reading, but the actual form of it. Utmost respect was accorded every outward manifestation of various religious rites. The attitude would also be accompanied by a lowering of the eyelids with the gaze directed downward toward the hands, folded discreetly in the lap.

I wonder sometimes if I have a fixation, of disapproval, with the religiosity of my grandmother’s household and to a lesser degree of my parents’ home. Perhaps I am as unnatural and as biased as they were. Maybe it is primarily that I cannot tolerate being so closed up in mind that I cannot tolerate change or the evidence of the world as it can be seen. I trust that that is the case and I am not inhibited by a vagrancy of character that keeps me going where reading, observation and experience lead.

Over the years we have had some contact with aunt Lillian’s children. On some of our trips to the Midwest we have visited with Phoebe (the eldest) and her minister husband Arne and with Ted and Barbara. We last say the youngest, Luther, at the time of my mother’s funeral — that was also when I last saw uncle Verner.

Uncle Verner remarried after aunt Lillian’s death and lived out his retirement years in southern Minnesota. He is now deceased.

Uncle Milton

Next on the list of my grandmother’s offspring is uncle Milton. When I became aware of uncle Milton as a person in my mother’s background was when he was teaching at the Augustana Seminary in Rock Island. This was I think the second step in his career, the first (directly after ordination) having been a pastorate at Anoka, Minnesota.



Milton as a young man

Unlike his two brothers in he ministry he was very capable intellectually and his discourses tended to command attention, though perhaps not agreement. While he was at Augustana Seminary I sense that there had developed some sort of dissension between my uncle and the prevailing powers and/or thinking at the seminary and he moved onto a large city church in St. Paul, Minnesota. The dissension may have had to do with uncle Milton’s somewhat liberal ideas about the character of some part of the Old Testament, which were at odds with the more fundamentalistic attitude of older members of the faculty. This difference in outlook surfaced again subsequently in his last career position which was as a teacher in a seminary of the Norwegian Lutheran church, also in St. Paul.

The evidence I have of this is a copy of a discussion he gave which presented some mildly liberal interpretations of some Old Testament occurrences. As earlier this brought him into some conflict with the old-guard conservative elements of the church. I became aware of this discussion through Howard Nelson who received it from our mutual cousin John Milton. It surfaced apparently during a reunion of the Milton children.

The impression I have of uncle Milton is that his thinking was the first step in the thinking about Judaism and Christianity which if carried to its logical and inevitable end would be a complete demolishing of the traditional tenets of the two religions. In his case the process had hardly more than just begun, impeded doubtless by the still potent influence of the religious outlook of the Peterson household. Initially uncle Milton had selected law as a potential career and had actually spent a year at Yale. But in the end he succumbed to the home influences and ended up in the ministry (in my opinion to his and society’s loss).

As far as actual personal contact I had very little with uncle Milton. As a rule the Milton family would come to Gowrie sometime each summer as a part of their vacation. They would actually stay with aunt Faye’s parents, but there would be some meals and visits to my grandmother’s to which we were also guests. Thus I had contact with my cousins but never developed any real rapport with them. Mostly they seemed to live and play in a world apart from us socially and economically.



Uncle Milton and Aunt Faye, in an undated photo

I recall one brief conversation that I had with uncle Milton on the occasion of one of his periodic visits to Gowrie. We were standing on the front lawn of the farm, beneath the six pine trees that stood in front of the house (I think these pines were planted by my grandfather — in a very early picture of the farmstead in which perhaps three or so of the oldest children appeared along with their parents, the trees can be seen in the foreground, protected by some crude enclosures probably against farm animals).



Peterson farmhouse, circa 1883. From left to right: Carl, Jonas, George, Emma, Esther. Note the five small pine trees in enclosures.

To the south was the pleasant vista either of the alfalfa field, or perhaps flax. Either field in bloom is a particularly attractive farm scene. Uncle Milton mentioned that during the summers when he came back from his schooling he would participate in the farm work such as plowing — which at the time would probably be with horses.

I suppose the last contact I personally had with uncle Milton was the time we came to Gowrie via Minneapolis because of a United Airlines strike. They (he and Aunt Faye) unexpectedly showed up at the airport on our arrival and we stayed overnight with them on the way back to California.

A Bit More about Uncle Serenus

Two more points about uncle Serenus. His birth was apparently a difficult one for my grandmother, and it was the only one of her children for whom I heard such a comment. I think it was my mother who wrote that my grandfather went driving off to Callender to try to get a doctor to come, but I don’t know if he was successful or not. The second point was that aunt Edith grew up on a farm about a mile east of the Peterson farm. My mother wrote, or told the story, of riding along to Gowrie for some such meeting as Luther League with uncle Serenus and aunt Edith. Any courting would have had to wait for the stretch of road between the two farms after they had left my mother off at the Peterson farm.

Two Visits with Uncle Serenus

Following the completion of his training and his ordination uncle Serenus had difficulty in getting a “call” to a congregation. In the Augustana at the time, the individual congregations were the sole arbiters of whom they would want as a pastor and apparently no congregation was interested in him. I believe he ended up in Fargo, North Dakota, but it seems there was some irregularity in how the “call” was rendered. Some other individual seemed to have the feeling that he, not uncle Serenus, was supposed to be the minister for the congregation.

In retrospect, this imbroglio seems to represent the temp and character of uncle Serenus’ life and vocation — haphazard, ill-considered, indecisive, and with a touch of unreality and farce to it. Later the family was in Fresno, California, then in Denver, Colorado, and his final pastorate was I believe in Mason City, Iowa. Shortly after the conclusion of WWII, aunt Laurine and Vivian made a trip to California to visit some friends that they had known in Dubuque and who had moved from there to Pasadena. I guess they spent most of their visit in Pasadena but Vivian came down to San Pedro for an overnight stay with me. So the visit must have been in 1946 as later that year I was transferred to the Bay Area.

Two more points about uncle Serenus. His birth was apparently a difficult one for my grandmother, and it was the only one of her children for whom I heard such a comment. I think it was my mother who wrote that my grandfather went driving off to Callender to try to get a doctor to come, but I don’t know if he was successful or not. The second point was that aunt Edith grew up on a farm about a mile east of the Peterson farm. My mother wrote, or told the story, of riding along to Gowrie for some such meeting as Luther League with uncle Serenus and aunt Edith. Any courting would have had to wait for the stretch of road between the two farms after they had left my mother off at the Peterson farm.

I was living at the last place I resided as during the time I was in southern California. My most vivid recollection of that visit was the evening I spent with aunt Laurine, Vivian, and their friends — we went to a fireworks display at the Rose Bowl and the event lasted until quite late. I still had the long journey back to San Pedro which involved a change on the Pacific Electric System in the downtown LA station and then, probably a walk from the San Pedro station to where I was living, a distance of a couple of miles. I was well after midnight when I was at last abed, tired and somewhat disgusted at the whole evening. I hadn’t liked fireworks all that much either and I think it colored my regard for fireworks ever since.

At any rate, aunt Laurine, Vivian and I arranged to make the trip back to the Midwest together, by way of Denver for a visit with uncle Serenus and aunt Edith. The first leg of the journey from L.A. to Denver was by Pullman [a sleeping car], but the overnight leg from Denver to Boone, or wherever we got off the train, was by coach. It was an uncomfortable experience and I didn’t sleep well and I’ve never tried an overnight trip again.

Uncle Serenus and aunt Edith were very hospitable and I suppose they showed us around Denver a little but I have no recollection specifically of the visit. The last time I saw either of them was when Jean and I took a driving trip around the periphery of the country (in 1977 after taking Laurel to school at Ames). After leaving Laurel at ISU we drove north to the Twin Cities and looked up uncle Serenus where they were living in an apartment in Hopkins. We had a short visit, perhaps “afternoon coffee” before we headed on the see aunt Faye.

From this visit I have one main recollection. Both uncle Serenus and aunt Edith were quite deaf and neither had a hearing aid, so their conversation was at a rather high decibel level. I guess out talking to them was necessarily at the same level. As when I visited them in Denver they were hospitable and welcoming though they still came through as quite odd people.

Uncle Serenus' Ministerial Career

At the time uncle Serenus decided to become a minister, both uncles Lawrence and Milton were in the profession and perhaps it was their example that led him in that direction. However his sense of mission also entered, this being a sort of natural outgrowth of the religious environment of the Peterson household. As I mentioned he was rather old to be entering the field and in addition he didn’t have the educational background that was normally required. In fact I don’t know for sure if he had any college training at all or even high school for that matter.

Apparently the church organization (the Augustana Synod at the time) waived these requirements, perhaps because of the presence of uncles Lawrence and Milton in the ministry and any influence they may have had. There may have been influence also from other quarters who knew of the character of the Peterson clan. At any rate he was accepted for the training in the Augustana Seminary in Rock Island and was at school there in the early 1930s.

It was while he was living there that our family made one of its few or its only vacation trip. It must have been shortly after the Essex was acquired in 1929 and we all rode down to Rock Island (8 people, including wiggly young children) cooped up for 200-plus miles in the not-too-roomy car. Where all the baggage was carried is still not clear to me. I remember on the trip down that my mother kept urging my father to maintain the speed. The Essex really did not operate well over 40 miles per hour, so even at top speed the trip would have lasted well over 5 hours. But eventually we got there.

I can remember only a couple of things from the trip. I slept with my cousin Eugene (I believe that he was between Clarice and me in age) and I recall the strange sensation of the lights outside the house and the city noises as of the traffic in the street outside as we were going to sleep. I also remember the excursion we made to a sort of man-made grotto garden that was the work of one Dr. Palmer who was I seem to recall a chiropractor. It was filled with exotic relics of his travels to foreign countries. Of the return trip to Gowrie I have no recollection.

Uncle Serenus' Farming Career

His entry into the ministerial field was a late one. He must have been at least 35 years of age when he was taking seminary training. Before that he had been engaged in agriculture or related activities. It was he who tried raising purebred swine, using the Peterson farm as a base for this activity. Doubtless the hog house on the farm was a byproduct of this project. Also the building that uncle Carl used as a tool shed was originally a small sales pavilion — it was located in such a position that the swine could be easily brought from the hog house into it for the sales process.

I don’t know who successful this project was, at least it had been long abandoned when I first became aware of uncle Serenus. Perhaps during this period he also farmed, or helped in farming the Peterson or acres. It is certain the occupied the house on the farm in the early 1920s. I’ve seen pictures of my cousin Eugene and his dog playing in or near the house yard.

During the 1920s he also spent some time in Texas, possibly farming the land that uncle Carl had down there. Uncle Carl had purchased this land following the advice of some Lutheran minister who had previously bought farmland in the same general area. As it developed the minister really “made out” on his venture — oil was discovered on his property and he became wealthy. Uncle Carl’s land was leased for the oil rights, perhaps off and on, but no drilling was done, nor was oil found nearby, so he did not have the same good fortune as the minister.

Agriculturally the land did not compare in productivity to the Iowa farmland. Perhaps if he did farm the land, as I suspect he may have, that was the reason uncle Serenus gave up farming and gravitated to the ministry. While we were living on the farm, uncle Carl made at least one trip down to Texas to review conditions on the farm with his rented. I don’t think he got much, if any, net income from the place. Eventually in his later years he sold it and I think donated the receipt from the sale to one of the church activities he supported.

I should acknowledge at this point that uncle Serenus’ leaving the Peterson farm as he did to enter the ministry played a significant part in the history of the Strand family. His leaving left the house vacant for us to move into during the Depression. So I suppose I should be thankful that he followed the checkered career he did.

“Space-Fillers”

Next to uncle Serenus, and if uncle Lawrence had some odd characteristics, uncle Serenus, in my opinion, was odd from beginning to end. Like uncle Lawrence, but even more so, he would have been well advised to have made farming his career rather than the ministry. I suppose he did some good and filled the needs for persons of like viewpoint to his, but overall his influence must have been a negative one. Sincere he was but sincerity alone is not enough for such a calling.

There is a place in society for what I call “space-fillers.” There are positions in society, organizations, and government which require that a person occupy the position which has been established by custom, design or constitution. Oftentimes the qualifications for filling these positions are beyond the qualifications of the persons attempting to fill them. These persons go through the motions of filling the position but their performance is hackneyed, unimaginative, pedestrian — any person regardless of qualifications could replace them. They occupy space and satisfy the requirement that the position be occupied but beyond this they do nothing.

In the field of government this is a very significant problem. I can think of very few persons in all of the governmental functions in the country (and this includes Congress, the executive branch and the courts, certainly including the Supreme Court) who function with real integrity, foresight, purpose. At most their actions are blind attempts to meet short-range problems and to provide superficial solutions. Uncle Serenus fulfilled the qualifications for being a space-filler in the field of the ministry.

Elvera

At about this place in the sequence of my grandmother’s children was Elvera (sp?). She died in infancy. According to my sister Vivian who was told this by my grandmother, Elvera was the prettiest of all her babies.

After the move to the farm, Vivian continued her piano lessons with my aunt Ruth. She would ride into town with uncle Carl when his work was ended for the day and have her lesson. On these trips Vivian would share my grandmother’s bed overnight, and Vivian was the recipient of various confidences from my grandmother. Amongst these was the secret about uncle George which she never disclosed.

Aunt Ruth

The next of my mother’s siblings would be either my aunt Ruth or my uncle Serenus, again I forget the exact order in age. I shall choose aunt Ruth to write about first.

Aunt Ruth when I first became aware of her as an individual was a member of my grandmother’s household, was the organist at the church and the person who came periodically to help my mother on washdays. This picture of her never really changed for me, except for the last item. This aspect of her gradually phased out and ceased entirely when we moved to the farm.

She was of reasonably height but always sort of a spare person similar in this respect to uncles Carl and George and aunts Esther and Lillian. She tended to be shy and retiring as far as any social contacts outside of family and church. I wonder if there was ever any attraction to a member of the opposite sex in all her life or if any male was ever attracted to her but was deterred by her family characteristic of unusual piety. I don’t recall whether she had any schooling at Gustavus. I do seem to remember that she had musical instruction, perhaps in both piano and organ in the Twin Cities area, but this was before my time.

She was quite a competent organist, and vocalists who used her as an accompanist regarded her highly in this respect. The congregation really paid her a pittance for her work, which was actually more extensive than merely filling the role of organist. I seem to recall the figure of $30 per month; of course at the time in the 1930s $30 was much more in what it could buy but even so the pay was too low. She did have her board and room at my grandmother’s house, I suspect she never paid anything there and perhaps she received distribution from the farm as my mother did but that was irregular in character.

I think she gave piano lessons over the years; I seem to recall specifically that she gave lessons to Brynolf Lundholm, one of the four sons of one of the pastors of the Gowrie congregation who was actually the pastor during my younger years) who later went on to a rather significant career in the musical world.

She gave lessons on the piano to Clarice, me and Vivian. I don’t think the three younger brothers were ever her pupils. I certainly recall her lessons with me, going through and practicing the various scales and arpeggios. And I remember such pieces I liked to play like “The Happy Farmer” by Robert Schumann. I never became very proficient with the instrument but I think this exposure to the piano was what led to my lifelong liking for the piano as a musical instrument.

During the time I lived in San Pedro I stated to take piano lessons but these were interrupted by my transfer to the Bay Area and I never resumed them. Though I did rent a piano for a time and played on my own for a while when while living in Berkeley.

The instruction by aunt Ruth ended for me when we moved to the farm, but Vivian kept on and this doubtless led to her later interest and activity in this field. Clarice I think sort of stopped lessons when I did.

Sometime in the mid-1930s after our move to the farm, my aunt Ruth developed some odd illness, which resulted in further emaciation from her already slight figure, but which at the same time results in a distention of her abdomen. Was it a kind of cancer that was never properly diagnosed? The term of diagnosis I recall was “tropical sprue” whatever that might signify. [Actually, it may have been celiac sprue. —LS] She had as her doctor either Dr. Waddell in the nearby town of Paton or a Dr. Shafer in Fort Dodge. I remember driving her to appointments with both of these doctors, driving uncle Carl’s old blue Essex for the trips.

Whatever treatment was administered was eventually ineffective and she died during the time I was away at school at Iowa City. I came home for the funeral at the urging of my mother — I remember as in the case of uncle George seeing her lying in the casket at my grandmother’s. Unlike in the case of uncle George however the mortician had prepared the dead body in a less than normal or attractive aspect. He had been told that her hair was wavy (which it was with a very slight waviness — she wore her hair with a bun in the back, as did also my aunt Esther, my mother and my aunt Lillian all their days). The mortician had interpreted this as rather fuzzy curls. I recall that aunt Laurine was rather incensed at what had been done.

So my aunt Ruth passed out of my life. She left me with an appreciation of music that I might not had had otherwise.

Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Dagmar

In the past I have known the order by age of the children that my grandmother had but right this moment I’m not sure whether my uncle Lawrence or my mother comes after uncle George. I will however choose uncle Lawrence to write about next.

He of course never resided permanently in my grandmother’s house though he was a periodic visitor during his annual vacation, which was characteristically in July or August. I think my uncle Lawrence started out to be a farmer but he never operated independently from the Peterson farm. However, early on he decided to enter the ministry and when I was aware of him he was already in that field of work.



Lawrence as a young man

Aunt Dagmar had been an acquaintance of my mother’s when they were attending school at Gustavus Adolphus in St. Peter, Minnesota, and it was through her that uncle Lawrence met aunt Dagmar. Aunt Dagmar was an only child, or at least the only surviving child of her parents. She was from Minnesota and as long as her parents, or parent still lived, aunt Dagmar and uncle Lawrence would spend part of their vacation with them.

Aunt Dagmar was truly a delightful person, gracious and dignified in manner, appearance and speech. They were childless. When I was first aware of uncle Lawrence he was the pastor at Braham (Brainerd?), Minnesota, and in succession he was at a city congregation in Minneapolis, at Albert City, Iowa, and lastly at Storm Lake, Iowa.



Dagmar as a young woman

I was never impressed with uncle Lawrence’s intellectual capacity and his sermons, what I remember of them, were predictably dull and uninspiring to me. He was however kindly person and he was well liked by the members of the congregations he served, particularly those who were similar to him in age and religious outlook. I once remarked to my mother that I thought it was a mistake for him to have ever entered the ministry, to which she replied that his preaching may have been less than desirable but that the personal aspects of his ministry had been very good.

Uncle Lawrence was somewhat overweight, with the excess mostly in his stomach. He was one of those men who, when they wore a belt, had it above their level of greatest girth rather than below it (the latter is quite a bit more common). He stood quite erect, thus because of the protuberance of his abdomen he gave the impression that he was trying to counterbalance it, and that he might have overcorrected and was in some danger of falling backward.

His hair was always white when I knew him — even early on his hair was no longer tinged with gray. Thus he exhibited the Peterson trait of graying early to an exceptional degree. He had a rather unusual mannerism, a lifting of his chin as if trying to pull the loose flesh of his neck from the constraint of his shirt collar as if it were too tight. He exhibited this mannerism at almost all times, but perhaps more frequently when conducting a devotional reading after a meal or when preaching.

Since uncle Lawrence and aunt Dagmar had no children they showed more attention to their nieces and nephews than they might have done otherwise. In particular they showed their generosity at the time of confirmation, which they preferred to stress rather than graduation from high school or college. In my case it was a check for $15, which at the time was quite a substantial gift, and certainly enough for a new suit of clothes to use during the confirmation rite. I can still remember uncle Lawrence giving me the check. I was out in the yard at the farm, probably going about the late afternoon chores on a cool cloudy day in late winter or early spring. I suppose they did the same for my brothers and sisters but I was never aware of it for them.

I visited uncle Lawrence and aunt Dagmar when they were living in Minneapolis. I don’t know what prompted the visit and I have no specific recollection of how I made the trip north, but I have the v ague feeling that I rode along in their car after one of their periodic visits to Gowrie. I suppose I was about ten years old — certainly it was before we moved to the farm. The only recollection from the time in Minneapolis was the time uncle Lawrence had me do some hand-watering of a section of the yard. He finally came out and said he thought that I had watered long enough.

I believe it was on this trip that I then visited with aunt Lillian and uncle Verner who were then living in Isanti, Minnesota, some distance (say 20 to 30 miles) north of the Twin Cities. This part of the visit was over the weekend and I went along with uncle Verner to both of the two services he conducted on a Sunday. He had charge of a small congregation out in a rural area as well as the larger congregation in Isanti.

Uncle Carl was along during the visit and accompanied us to both of the services. How or when he arrived I have no recollection. I do remember the trip back with uncle Carl — it was on the M and St L at least from Minneapolis to Gowrie. I suppose uncle Verner took us to the station in Minneapolis. At that time the passenger service no longer used a steam locomotive. The first unit of the train was a combination diesel engine, baggage and mail car, the second car was for the passengers.

I remember eating lunch on the train with uncle Carl which aunt Lillian had prepared for us. The sandwiches were roast beef and at first before trying them, I thought I wouldn’t be interested in them. I suppose sandwiches to me at that time were something with peanut butter in them. But my uncle convinced me to eat them. I demurred when my uncle brought them out but he pressed me to eat them so I did, dutifully at first and then finding them unexpectedly tasty, with relish. The cookies aunt Lillian had sent along were peanut butter cookies I seem to recall so I had my peanut butter after all.

The visit to Minneapolis was the first of the four times I have been in the city, or in the state of Minnesota for that matter. The second time was after WWII when I was back in Iowa from California, I suppose on vacation and Vincent, uncle Carl and I drove north to attend my cousin John Milton’s wedding. The third time was on a trip as a family back to see my parents. United was on strike so we flew Northwest to Minneapolis, rented a car and drove to Gowrie.

Unexpectedly uncle Milton and aunt Faye met us at the airport; I suppose my mother had written that we were coming through. We couldn’t visit with them then as we had plans to stay that night with aunt Laurine who at the time was living in St. Peter and teaching at Gustavus college. But we did stay overnight with uncle Milton’s on the way back to California.

The fourth time was on the trip Jean and I took around the perimeter of the country, after we took Laurel to college at Ames. On that trip we also visited uncle Serenus and aunt Edith — what I remember about that visit was that both of them were quite deaf so that communication between them was at a high decibel level.

Jean and I, and I think Muriel visited uncle Lawrence’s when they were in Albert City — at least once, perhaps twice. Maybe Palma and Laurel were along the second time. The first time I borrowed Vincent’s Studebaker for the drive over from Gowrie. That was the car he purchased after finishing college and starting to work for John Deere. It was on that drive to Albert City that we stopped along the road for met to point out an Iowa “hill” to Jean. We also drove over to see them on some trip to Iowa while they were at Storm Lake.

After uncle Lawrence died (they had continued to live on in Storm Lake after my uncle’s retirement from the ministry), aunt Dagmar moved first to one of the small apartments at the eastern outskirts of Gowrie and we saw her there several times. Eventually she moved to Friendship Haven near Fort Dodge and later on to a nursing facility near Gowrie where she died, having outlived uncle Lawrence by perhaps ten years. I have no specific recollection of uncle Lawrence’s death although I’m sure that my mother must have written me about it.

Coffee and Rusks

I mentioned that uncle George often seemed to subsist on coffee and a rusk. Rusks were a staple at my grandmother’s house and indeed they were widely and commonly used in the Swedish community. Basically a small loaf of white bread was made, sliced and the slices were dried in the over (after having been given a light dusting of sugar — there may have been other treatment but only the sugar am I sure of). Thus after the drying in the oven they were crisp and hard throughout and perhaps slightly browned on the surface, but not like a piece of toast. They were eaten generally along with a cup of coffee and invariably the rusk was dunked in the coffee to make it easier to chew. I certainly ate my share of rusks in my day, although not until the point where I could have coffee. Actually when dunked in coffee they were quite tasty. In cross-section a rusk would be perhaps 2 inches by 4 inches and one-half to one-third inches thick.

Coffee was an important beverage in the Swedish community and at the time of my youth was always simply made by adding the requisite amount of coffee grounds to the water in the coffee pot and allowing it to simmer until the grounds settled. At church functions, such as Ladies Aid or Missionary meetings an egg would be added in the later part of the coffee-making process to aid in the settling of the grounds. Most people would add cream and many would add sugar (always one or two cubes of lump sugar, not a spoonful of granulated sugar). Sugar was not normally used at my grandmother’s or by my parents. Almost no one would drink “black” coffee.

My uncle Carl, not being a coffee drinker would dunk his rusks in the large class of water he invariable had with his meals. The picture in my mind I have of him doing this is incredibly clear.

When I was working on the threshing run, coffee was of course served at meals and I was told by the older men that the best way of cooling off during the sweaty work was to drink hot coffee. I could not really believe this but they claimed it to be true.

I have one amusing incident that I was told about involving coffee. I think it was my cousin Floyd who told me of it — he was always one for a funny story, whether true or not. It seems that one of the grocery stores in Gowrie on one occasion was providing free cups of coffee to its customers. The cost of a cup of coffee at the time was five cents. Old man Franzeen, a neighbor of my cousin Floyd, was offered a cup of coffee. Being well aware of the value of money, the old man said, “I’d rather have the nickel.”

On occasion my grandmother would make toast, but toast to her was a piece of bread that was crisp throughout, much like being a rusk except browner on the surface. Nothing like a piece of toast today that is crisp and brown on the outside but not crisp inside.

Uncle George's Wake

When uncle George died he had the typical funeral of the time, in which the casket of the deceased person was brought to his, or her, place of residence. There it sat for a day or so before the funeral service. So uncle George in his casket was in the parlor at my grandmother’s and also typical of the time, the casket was open for family and friends to view the deceased for the last time.

I saw him there and I was struck by the comeliness of his face. Perhaps it was the result of the undertaker’s skill but I believe it was more than that. Maybe it was also the contrast with the appearance he had during his life. My impression was that he was a much better looking man than any of his three younger brothers (in my opinion, uncles Lawrence and Serenus were rather peculiar in appearance and deportment and uncle Milton though better in the latter department was not particularly good-looking). Uncle Carl had better features and basically in the same class with uncle George as I viewed him in his casket.

Uncle George had a few funds at the time of his death and these were distributed to some of his nieces and nephews. I got $10 as I recall and I used it to purchase a watch chain with a little knife at one end. I used it for a long time and I suppose I still have it somewhere. I know I used it well into the 1960s.

The Reclusive Life of Uncle George

The sun porch was on the south side of the house on the second story and was entered through the bedroom that uncle George used. Uncle Carl did use the clothes closet adjacent to uncle George’s room — there was no closet attached directly to the sun porch. The sunroom had a lot of windows and was consequently very light and airy — it was unheated so it must have been a cold place to sleep in the winter time. Uncle George’s room was on the other hand invariably a rather dark place. Most of the time he would have the window shade mostly drawn down (for the single window in the room).

The checker games I played with uncle George I most of the time lost. When I won perhaps it was by design on the part of my uncle, I really do not know. As I grew older it was less likely that I would spend these times with uncle George and I think they ceased altogether after we moved to the farm. Also I don’t know if any of my brothers (or cousins) ever visited and played checkers with him in a similar fashion.

One time, perhaps through my mother or my grandmother and after I had more or less stopped visiting with him, he had remarked rather plaintively that I wasn’t coming to see him anymore. With the callousness of youth the remark did not move me to see him much again. I surmise that the level of stimulation I had received from playing checkers with him had palled.

I doubt if he read much if at all and the only human contact he had was with the few regular occupants of the house; he was starved for things to do and for more personal contacts. I think when one of his minister brothers would visit the house they would spend some time with him. Generally uncle Carl would shun contact with him and treated him rather cavalierly, according to my sister Vivian. At this point of my life, I feel a sadness for him — a stunted life brought on and emphasized by the religious milieu of that household.

When I was first aware of my uncle George he did such chores around the house as mowing the lawn, perhaps working in the vegetable garden though I don’t specifically recall this. Early on there used to be a few chickens kept in the barn at the back of the property but this later on discontinued. Uncle George said that the chickens were not producing much in the way of eggs and I guess uncle Carl disposed of them. Eventually he wasn’t able to continue the chores and I recall on one occasion mowing the lawn. Maybe this was at uncle Carl’s instigation or by my mother’s or grandmother’s request; I don’t recall.

He died rather suddenly — no specific illness, I think he just gave up living. I seem to have been on the scene when he died. It was during the day, a weekday, during the summer, and uncle Carl was in town thought it was the time of the year when he normally would have been doing farm work. Uncle Carl had walked to the post office to get the mail and when members of the family observed that uncle George had died, my aunt Laurine was greatly agitated and wanted me to immediately find uncle Carl and let him know what had happened. Apart from the rather unlikely possibility that I could located him readily, or would miss him on the alternative paths to and from the post office, I recall thinking that he would surely come back soon anyway. This indeed proved to be the case before I set out to find him. I wonder now if uncle Carl’s not working was the result of the feeling that uncle George was indeed dying.

Aside from my checker-game visits with uncle George my only contact with him would be to observe him when he came down from his room to the kitchen (as when we were having Sunday dinner at my grandmother’s). I cannot recall him ever joining at the table with the rest of the family, and I’m not sure he would join at other meals with uncle Carl, grandmother and aunt Esther and other regular occupants of the house but perhaps he did.

When he did come down to the kitchen, his fare seemed to be some black coffe and a piece of bread or a rusk. I suspect his diet was sadly inadequate; I wonder if maybe he had an ulcer. With this kind of diet he was very thin, almost to the point of emaciation. Though of average height I doubt if he could have weighed much more than 100 pounds or so. Like the rest of him his face was thin and deeply lined. I’m not sure but oftentimes he would not have shaved that day. His hair was not gray and in this respect he did not have the typical Peterson tendency for early gray, even white hair. Always shy and retiring, he never left the limits of house and yard to my recollection. He does appear in a few photographs of family gatherings — a somewhat saturnine visage amongst many of more animated appearance.

As I have mentioned previously when my uncle Milton or uncle Lawrence would visit they would spend some time with uncle George, sort of a person-to-person visit with him. I seem to have heard it mentioned that they did. Uncle Serenus and family seldom if ever visited Gowrie, at least after the time of our move to the farm so I don’t know if they ever visited with uncle George in a similar manner. What did they talk about? Religious matters? Discussion of whatever afflicted uncle George to make him lead the kind of life he lived? Uncle George never attended any church services. Did the pastor of the Gowrie church visit him, perhaps to administer communion? There was never any mention of such visits to my recollection.