THE LITTLE ELF APPROVED THIS MESSAGE!

If you’re looking for a real treasure in the heart of a city, Lake Harriet in Minneapolis is the perfect place to visit.  It’s my favorite lake in the Twin Cities and part of the Chain of Lakes, which includes Lake Calhoun, Lake of the Isles, and Cedar Lake.  It’s downright magical-- a picturesque setting with wonderful old trees, nearly three miles of separate paths for bikers and runners and roller blade lovers, as well as walkers and families that just want to stroll.  It’s a great place to pull up a chair next to the lake and people watch or head for the beaches.  You can rent canoes and paddle boats, or go sailing or swimming.  And best of all, if you come in the evening, there’s a different concert at the castle-like band shell every night from Memorial Day to Labor Day, and it’s all free.  That array of music includes big bands and orchestras, classical, jazz, folk, pop, Broadway, eclectic, patriotic, marches, country, bluegrass, and soul.  Add some singers and dancers and you’ll understand why Lake Harriet gets five stars in most reviews. It’s diverse in the people who visit and in the entertainment and natural beauty surrounding it.  And the houses nearby are magnificent!

I love the beautiful Japanese Rose Garden with its fabulous array of roses and wonderful scents. It's within close proximity to the lake and is definitely worth a trip in itself.

And then there’s the elf house—the ash tree with the elf door on the south side of the lake.  Kids can write a letter to the little elf and if lucky, discover an answer a few days later.  The door is closed in the winter—there’s a note that says the elf has moved his castle to the east, but plans to return in the spring.

One day about a year ago I was strolling around Lake Harriet and noticed something unusual—I nearly did a “double-take.”  Lake Harriet displayed its own “Nessie.” 

The castle-shaped band shell at Lake Harriet has an interesting history.  The first one was built in 1888.  Within a few years it was destroyed by fire, as was the second one that replaced it a few years later.  A third band shell was built, but was destroyed by a windstorm in 1925.  The next band shell lasted from 1927-1985 when a more modern one was built. That one has since been renovated, and the music plays on as it has for decades.

Even in the midst of winter, the band shell has its own charm 

Near Lake Harriet is a streetcar line which is operated by the Minnesota Streetcar Museum.  Families and kids of all ages love it, welcoming a ride back in time when street cars were an important transportation link in Minneapolis. I find myself still wishing they were.  They operated until 1954 and are now part of the U.S. National Register of Historic Places.

I’ve lived in Minneapolis since 1970 and am constantly reminded that you don’t have to travel very far to experience the magic of the City of Lakes and its NUMBER ONE GEM—LAKE HARRIET.

*****THE LITTLE ELF ENTHUSIASTICALLY APPROVED THIS MESSAGE.*****

EMBRACING SIMPLICITY and LEISURE

For much of my adult life I’ve struggled with my restless spirit, the need to see myself as being productive and useful and not a “time-waster.”  Many times it was hard for me to relax and just “be”, even if I was on vacation. At the end of a day I often reflected on what I’d accomplished, as if I could define that in “concrete” terms.  Thankfully things have now shifted a bit.  I spend a lot of time with my grandchildren (eight and ten), and although we experience plenty of challenging moments, it feels like I’ve turned a corner.  I laugh easier, nurture myself more, and just enjoy life moment by moment, knowing how fleeting time is.  Nearing 64, I don’t know what lies ahead, but the word leisure is slowly becoming an important part of my vocabulary.

Here’s to the good, relaxing, simple “down times” I’ve observed and learned from others, as well as experienced on my own.

A WALK ALONG THE OCEAN SHORE IN RHODE ISLAND

“An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.”

(Henry David Thoreau)

"Give your stress wings and let it fly away.”

(Terri Guillemets)

 “The mark of a successful man (or woman) is one that has spent an entire day on the bank of a river without feeling guilty about it.”

(Anonymous)

MY MOM AND DAD WITH FRIEND GEORGIA

“They talk of the dignity of work.  The dignity is in leisure.”

(Herman Melville)

MY AUNT ELLEN WITH HER FRIENDS

“There is more to life than increasing its speed.”

(Mahatma Gandhi)

“So you see, imagination needs noodling—long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling, and puttering.”

(Brenda Ueland, writer)

MY MOTHER MILLIE WITH HER CAMPING FRIENDS GEORGIA AND WILBUR  

CABIN NEIGHBOR ALBERT WITH OUR SON ALEX

MY AUNT ELLEN WITH PALS

“In our leisure we reveal what kind of people we are.”  

(Ovid)

“How beautiful it is to do nothing, and then to rest afterward.”  

(Spanish proverb)

“For fast-acting relief, try slowing down.”  

(Lily Tomlin)

YEARBOOK MEMORIES--THREE WOMEN, THREE PAGES OF TIME

I have to admit to a fascination with high school yearbooks of the past.  They’re a wonderful glimpse into the history and language and people of decades ago.  When I discovered my father’s yearbook of 1932, I learned things about him that I would otherwise never have known.   It prompted me to write a story about him, which was my way of sharing what a remarkable man and father he was.

During the last decade I’ve also been fortunate to obtain my Aunt Ellen’s 1920 yearbook, as well as my mother’s from 1931.  I’ve included memories of my high school years from my 1966 yearbook too. It’s been fun to examine the differences in language and course study, as well as activities outside the classroom.  But the most fun of all has been reading the delightful and insightful messages left by friends and teachers. Some of them are quite profound and telling.

my Aunt Ellen's 1920 yearbook

Aunt Ellen's School Day Memories

My Aunt Ellen’s yearbooks, The Girl Graduate and School Day Memories were cherished gifts I received through which she lovingly recorded her memories.  They followed her elementary school years and beyond in small schools in Wisconsin.  There I met Eva, her pal from Abbotsford days—1907-1914 and her teachers from 1909-1915.  As the American poet Longfellow wrote, “The teachers who in early days led our bewildering feet through learnings maze.”

Although very different from the traditional yearbooks we know today, the sentiments expressed are familiar, touching, and humorous.  The language is often flowery and poetic.  Here are some examples:

            Lucille wrote, “Ellen is a shy little maid, from her work she never strayed, her hair is brown and eyes are blue, she’ll be a teacher kind and true.”  (And indeed she was, for nearly 50 years).

            Sadie—“Who is the lass so kind and true, with light brown hair and eyes of blue.  She’ll be a teacher kind and true.”

Sometimes friends like Grace wanted to express a special sentiment and quoted a poet or writer of the times:  A FRIEND LIKE YOU—“I want to be a friend like you; I’d count my life worthwhile, if I could only learn to do so much to bring a smile.  I wish that I could grow to be in all I say and do, less like the one folks know as me, and more like you.”  (Edgar A. Guest)

It still amazes me that after nine decades I can see my aunt as her peers and teachers did.  One of them wrote:  “You’ve always followed your motto—DON’T DODGE DIFFICULTIES, DIG!”  One of her high school teachers at Neillsville, the town my grandparents had moved to from Abbotsford said, “Modest and simple and sweet is she, the very type of Priscilla, her mind to a kingdom would be in London, Hong Kong, or Manila.”  (Mrs. Hammond, Ellen’s favorite teacher)

Some philosophical thoughts appeared in her yearbook as well:

            Don—“Be the road ever climbing.”

            Emily—“Let not thy ambition conquer you.”

Emily and Ellen remained close friends through the years and in 1926 Ellen was the bridesmaid in her wedding.  It was there that she met her future husband Maynard.

Ellen wrote her entire salutatorian graduation speech in THE GIRL GRADUATE.  I pictured her audience as she spoke:

            “Each, if he hasn’t had, will have a difficulty to solve, and it will be a problem for himself alone.  The way you solve that difficulty will determine your caliber and what you are going to amount to in your work.  A high school education is only a foundation which helps us to overcome the difficulties that we must meet as we lay the superstructure.”

From Ellen’s seniors’ page in her 1920 yearbook:

            “When twilight draws the curtain and pins it with a star, I’ll always remember you dear Ellen, tho you may wander far.”  (Marvel)

            “True worth is in being, not seeming, in doing each day that goes by some little good, not in dreaming of great things to do by and by.”  (Effie)

The GIRL GRADUATE also expressed Ellen’s interest in school beyond her own years as a student.  As a teacher in various rural, small town, and city schools for over 46 years, she collected wonderful sayings and mementos, from students, other teachers, places she visited, and events she attended.  I found it fascinating reading.

            “Miss Olson, your neat, tidy, attractive school room and person are a pleasant reflection of your efforts.  You are commended for your efforts in keeping your school room atmosphere homey and attractive with plants, posters, flowers, etc.”  (A visiting supervisor)

Finally, I discovered two touching mementos preserved over the years—part of Ellen’s graduation bouquet and the envelope mailed to her from Miss Hammond when she was in France.  It obviously meant a lot to her that Miss Hammond remembered her.

I loved the photos of friends and classmates that Ellen preserved.  I’ve delighted in learning about them and their connection to my dear aunt.

Louise, her dearest friend wrote:  “When the leaves of your album are yellow with age, and the words that I write here are dim on the page, still think of me kindly and do not forget, that where ever I am I remember you yet.”

Ellen never forgot her friends and the important things in life, big or small.  She would have concurred with Charlotte Young’s words on the Senior’s page:  “God’s in his Heaven, all is right with the world.”

HERE’S TO MILDRED

My mother’s high school yearbook dates back to her junior year, 1931.  I found it in tattered shape in a drawer at our cabin in Wisconsin after she died.  Alongside it were two Neillsville High School reunion books, from 1982 (her 50^th reunion) and 1992.  She attended both of those reunions, as well as numerous others in the ensuing years.  I remember how excited she was about the mini-reunions in Neillsville every summer.  She kept in close touch with many classmates, including her brother Ken who graduated the same year.  Money was scarce, so they shared the same yearbook.

Millie and Verna, her high school and college friend

It pains me now to realize all the questions I neglected to ask my mother about those reunions, as well as what she remembered about her high school and college experiences.  Her childhood years had been difficult due to numerous illnesses that resulted in problems with her left leg.  Despite several hospital visits for months at a time, her situation never improved.  She was never able to bend her knee.  It failed to stop her though from participating in sports, including basketball, volleyball, and tennis.  Recently my cousin sent me a picture of her, tennis racquet in hand with her high school friend and neighbor Verna.  I never knew she could even play tennis.  Now I understand better her interest in watching Wimbledon and other tennis events on TV.  She was passionate about it, as well as football.  Her high school friend Stretch even commented, “Teach that brother of yours to play ball next year.”  Her senior year she became athletic reporter for the Crimson and White yearbook.  Her interests went well beyond sports however.  Her debating skills were frequently mentioned in the yearbook.  Bruce Beilfuss, a fellow classmate, who went on to become head of the Wisconsin Supreme Court for seven years wrote:

            Dear Mildred,

            “Well I have got all the debating I want.  I suppose that next year you will be a big star on the Senior debate team.”

Her friend George referred to her skills as well:

            Dear Mildred,

            “When you get to be a senator or something like that sometime, I’ll come and listen to you debate.  If you do like you did, there won’t be any chain stores left in the country and then you own a lot peacefully.”

On another page, titled Junior Microscope, her occupation was listed as debating, her fault “sassing,” and her highest ambition to be first president of Yale.  Interestingly, a 93-year old former classmate of hers whom I visited remarked to me:  “Your mother was feisty.  She was game for anything.  She had a good sense of humor too.”

Nineteen thirty-one was the first year that my mother’s high school established a Girl Scout organization.  A teacher of hers, Marie Thomas wrote:

            “Mildred, I’ve always tried to figure out why I can’t sing the Star-Spangled Banner at Scout meetings.  Now I know that it was because I was too interested in watching your cheery smile.”

That cheery smile was often mentioned in her yearbook.  The school librarian, Kathryn Hornibrook, who was in her first year at Neillsville wrote:  “Here’s to Mildred with her heart and smile, she makes this bubble of life worthwhile.”  It brought tears to my eyes.  I hadn’t thought much about my mother as a teenager. 

In tribute to my mother, here are some additional treasures from her 1931 Crimson and White:

            Dear Mildred,

            “Writing in annuals makes me feel like President Hoover.  I hope you continue to read the newspapers this summer.  Then you will be an “A” student all year.  Heaps of best wishes to you.”  (Marian Williams—history and vocational guidance teacher)

            Dear Mildred,

            “Miss Olson, you have only one year left—then caflooey, isn’t that a pity.  I don’t know how smart you are, but according to Sunday School, you must be along the high line somewhere.  I can’t locate it, but it’s up there someplace.  We wouldn’t know what to do without you in S.S. class.  You sure was a corker.” (Sophie)

A snippet from the 1931 class history read:  “The sturdy little vessel is near its goal, the Isle of Commencement.  It has been a four years’ journey in search of Knowledge and there has been a great decline in the number of passengers.”

After landing at the Isle of Commencement the following year, Millie continued her education.  In 1982 she wrote:  “After graduation Verna and I spent four years at Whitewater State Teachers College.  I taught four years, teaching Commercial Studies at Fairchild.  I married Lowell Dorn after two years of teaching and continued two more years.”  What she didn’t mention was that she and my father ran off to Dubuque, Iowa to get married in 1938 because she was afraid that she would lose her teaching job.  Instead, my grandfather found out and had the news published in the local paper.  Thankfully she was able to continue teaching.

My mother’s high school education provided her with a good foundation and the opportunity to continue her education at Whitewater.  She was happy in later years as a homemaker and business partner with my father, but she never forgot her special classmates and their unique bond.  For over 60 years they celebrated together every summer and Millie frequently returned to the cabin with a cheery smile.  She did indeed make the bubble of life worthwhile.

TIME MARCHES ON—Lynda’s 1966 Yearbook

In re-reading parts of my 1966 yearbook recently I chuckled at my former home-economics teacher’s comments:

            Dear Linda,

            “Thanks so much for narrating my Style Show.  You did so good and I was really proud of you.  Just think, Linda, you’re a senior.  May God’s choicest blessings always follow you.”  (Mrs. T.)

I had forgotten about that style show, probably because my name and the word “style” never seemed to fit into the same sentence.  I had only taken home-economics because I had to.  I didn’t want to be labeled as the only girl in the alternative class.  So there I was, stuck in sewing.  I hated it and so did my mother.  We were both frustrated.  Mrs. T put more effort into making my “shift” than me.  I never wanted to see it again.  As a freshman it wasn’t getting high school off to a good start.  Now, looking back, I realize what a kind teacher she was.  We were obviously very different, but she understood and cared about me and even expressed it in my yearbook.

More than anything I look back at my high school years as building friendships and establishing my independence.  I was happy that a few friends valued that independence.  Carla wrote:

            “I think you are a sweet adorable girl.  I admire you for being an individual; I hope you always will be.”

Some classmates took a philosophical tone:

            “Well, we’re finally at the end of our long hard road in high school.  Now we’re coming to an even harder and longer road.  It takes a really good person to achieve in this world and I know you can do it.  It’s hard to say goodbye to dear friends.” (Diane)

And finally there were those who wanted to reminisce.

            “I’ll never forget the night we sat outside my house and talked about our problems and life in general and you wound up with a dead battery.”  (Susan)

One of my mother’s classmates (Helen) wrote in the 1982 reunion yearbook something I’ve often thought about:

            “When we were children, I thought 50 years was a block of time that was unending.  Was I wrong!  What’s more, time continues to go faster.”

Now my classmates of 1966 and I are only four years away from that 50^th reunion mark and I’m close to my 64^th birthday.  I think of the phrase my mother often said in her 80’s—“Time marches on.”  It sometimes annoyed me when she said it over and over again, but it finally registered. 

The yearbooks of the past are now packed away for the time being, but the memories will always endure, and as Gertrude Stein, the American writer once said, “We are always the same age inside.”

ERMA BOMBECK--HUMORIST EXTRAORDINAIRE

Erma Bombeck, American humorist extraordinaire kept millions of us laughing and maintaining our sanity over decades of child rearing.  During the 1970’s she wrote a brilliant column called AT WIT’S END.  Speaking for myself, there were plenty of moments that called out for every ounce of patience I could muster, and Erma was the one to put it all in perspective. She had three children of her own and had plenty of experiences to share. After adopting her first child she became a full-time homemaker for ten years, but continued to write columns for local papers.

Erma was born in 1927 in Ohio and was named after her mother Erma. She was a top student who loved to read, especially authors who displayed humor.  She wrote humorous columns for her junior high school newspaper and at 15 she interviewed Shirley Temple for a Dayton newspaper when Shirley visited Dayton.

When Erma attended the University of Dayton, her English teacher strongly influenced her, encouraging her to be a writer. It was during that time that she started writing for the university newspaper.

Over 30 years Erma wrote newspaper columns that described life in the suburban home.  She also wrote 15 books, including many best sellers. Her writings were often directed at the Midwestern suburban housewife, but she had millions of dedicated readers all over the U.S. and Canada. She also earned a substantial income doing lectures in the late 1960’s.  She often wrote for women’s magazines and at one point 900 newspapers carried her column.  I remember seeing her on Good Morning America segments as well.

In later years Erma moved with her family to Phoenix, Arizona.  She died in 1996 after developing complications following a kidney transplant.  She was 69.

Erma Bombeck’s writings were immensely funny and inspirational and made a huge difference in my life.  I wanted her to know how I felt, so I wrote her a letter in late 1985. I was thrilled when she wrote back and sent me an autographed book.  Remembering that unique and special lady, I’ve included some of her memorable quotes, as well as the letter she wrote that I've saved through the years and her photograph.

            “I take a very practical view of raising children.  I put a sign in each of their rooms:  Check out time is 18 years.”

            “My theory in housework is, if the item doesn’t multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be.  No one else cares.  Why should you?”

            “I haven’t trusted polls since I read that 62% of women had affairs during their lunch hour.  I’ve never met a woman in my life who would give up lunch for sex.”

            “Before you try to keep up with the Joneses, be sure they’re not trying to keep up with you.”

            “Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.”

            “I come from a family where gravy is considered a beverage.”

            “When humor goes, there goes civilization.”

A GIFT FROM A UNIQUE RUSSIAN PEN PAL!

I met Tatiana through a pen pal agency over 20 years ago.  I was excited to write to a Russian friend for the first time, and even though I didn’t know any Russian and she had a limited knowledge of English, we had a wonderful connection through the mail for a number of years.  We shared many interests and wrote enthusiastically about our children and family life.  I was thankful that her sons had studied English and helped her with letter writing.  I tried valiantly to learn a little Russian, but it was more difficult than I thought.  As a child growing up in Wisconsin, I had been fascinated that my brother was studying Russian by correspondence course.  When I started writing to Tatiana I found myself wishing that my brother Bob had talked me into taking that correspondence course too; it sure would have made things easier.  But regardless,  I was thrilled whenever one of her letters arrived. 

THE RUSSIAN BOXES THAT TATIANA SENT ME

And then one day something very unusual came through the mail and I couldn’t remotely figure out what it was.  I had never seen a package like that.  It was a large gray cloth bag that was sewn shut and something was rumbling around inside it.  It took me a while to figure out how to get it open, and when I did, I was surprised to find three lovely boxes, all a different size.  It was an incredibly thoughtful gift and I still have those special boxes today, along with numerous pictures of my friend Tatiana.

One of those pictures was taken at Kansas State University, where Tatiana and I were able to meet in person.  She was the director of a folk group that had performed in Europe, but now they were making their first trip to the U.S.  She wrote to ask if I could meet her in Manhattan, Kansas. I couldn’t wait!  My cousin and dear friend knew what the trip meant to me and offered to be part of the drive and adventure.  And what an adventure it was!  It was wonderful to meet Tatiana and her friends in the group and share a meal together with the hosts from Kansas State.  Of course a little sample of vodka was in order too.

I’ve never been very good at saying good-bye and at the end of the time with Tatiana, it was especially hard.  I didn’t know if I would ever see her again, but we had a fantastic visit and continued writing for some time. Eventually we lost touch and I’m sure it was more my fault than hers, as I moved a number of times over the ensuing years.  A friend once sent me an article by a Connecticut writer, Eric Dolin, called MOURNING the LOST ART OF WRITING to a FRIEND.  I miss those letters in my mailbox from Tatiana, but I think of her often and remember fondly our meeting and the day of her Russian surprise.
 

ELLA, AN AMISH FRIEND and the AMISH OF CENTRAL WISCONSIN

My mother introduced me to her Amish friend Ella over twenty-five years ago.  She used to buy fresh fruits and vegetables from Ella’s huge garden which was a few miles from our cabin. She was always happy to see us and enjoyed talking with my mother.  For years my mother and I had driven the small country roads and seen many Amish farms.  The Old Order Amish of central Wisconsin liked the area because it was sparsely populated with small towns, the “English” (non-Amish) were generally friendly, and the land and farms were cheap.  Much of the area hadn’t changed over the years and the Amish appreciated that.

It didn’t take long before Ella became my friend as well. She was a charming woman—kind and caring and very hard-working and family-oriented.  Her world seemed incredibly hard to me, like drudgery, but I soon realized that there was much I could learn from her.  I hadn’t expected that.  Like many “English,” I wondered how the Amish could “choose” such a life.  Initially it just seemed devoid of fun and filled with hardship.  Living without electricity, indoor plumbing, washing machines, and telephones just didn’t seem right or possible.  Spending long hours working in the fields and garden and wearing long dresses with bonnets while standing over a hot stove seemed incomprehensible. I didn’t come from that world and I wondered if Ella sometimes resented it.  In retrospect, I was only looking at Ella and her Amish community from one perspective—my own.  Perhaps that was selfish and insensitive; I soon came to reserve judgment and embrace some Amish values.

AN AMISH LADY IN THE FIELD   (Heinz Richter)

From Ella I learned to appreciate every day and express gratitude for the simple blessings that come our way.  There’s an Amish proverb that says, “Kind words and kind deeds keep life’s garden free of weeds.”  Ella’s gentle, generous spirit reflected that. She often sent us home with extra goodies, and no matter how busy she was when we arrived, she always took a special interest in our family and made time to chat. There was even an unexpected tour of her home one summer.

Although I’m not a deeply religious person like the Amish, I have immense respect for their belief in God, which has kept them going for centuries.  They believe that their Amish faith inspires them to do what they can to help others.  That goes for their community as well.  Any tragedy or grief is shared by the small community.  Barn raisings after a fire are common.  I’ve seen many of them on my travels through Wisconsin. Adversity is not questioned since it’s part of God’s will.  The Amish believe that for every difficulty, God is always there to provide strength.

I often loved going for a drive on the simple country roads near the cabin on Sunday morning. Every other week or so Amish families could be seen in their buggies on their way to church, which was always held in homes.  I remember visiting Ella a few days before it was her family's turn. Much of the week was spent in preparation, cleaning the house, baking for hours, and providing enough benches and space for everyone.  I never sensed that Ella felt additional stress over this day; it was what was expected and it was a special day to spend with members of the community and their families.  After the three-hour service, there was plenty of time to relax and chat and watch the children play. Sometimes on Sunday I drove to the dam near the cabin and saw buggies parked nearby.  Young Amish men were enjoying their one day of relaxing by going fishing.  To me it was like walking back in time, seeing the old work horses hooked up to the buggies.  But it also made me realize that Amish children enjoy many of the things their “English” neighbors do. 

The Amish have a simple lifestyle which has changed little over the centuries and that includes their incredibly strong work ethic.  An Amish proverb expresses it well:  “Pride in your work puts joy in your day.”  To them work is honorable and hurrying isn’t part of the horse and buggy world. Simply put, they don’t believe in keeping up with the Joneses. And they choose not to accept public welfare or social security, although they do pay taxes. 

The Amish are not interested in materialistic things; they believe that it causes one to become prideful.  They do believe in humility, and stress that God is the one who should receive praise.  Their focus is on pleasing God and living faithfully.  The Amish are often spoken of as a “people in the world, but not of it.”

THE AMISH DOLL THAT I RECEIVED FROM ELLA, ALONG WITH THE QUILT

Over twenty years ago at Christmas time I remember driving the back roads of central Wisconsin by myself and questioning the frantic gift buying I had witnessed in several department stores in the Twin Cities.  I just needed to get away and find some peaceful surroundings.  I drove out to the cabin on snowy roads and felt an incredible sense of calm.  I went a few miles further and stopped to see my friend Ella.  She was sitting at her work table canning meat by a kerosene lamp.  The contrast was startling to me.  I felt humbled and thankful to have a friend like Ella.  I gained a new appreciation of her world and started questioning my own more than ever. Although I could never be Amish and I know that their world is full of challenges and imperfection, I respect and honor their simple lifestyle and their quest for peaceful living and joy in their relationship with God.  I’ve especially come to value an Amish proverb that says a lot about these special people who endured persecution through the years—“It is better to give others a piece of your heart than a piece of your mind.”

A BLAST FROM THE PAST and GRANDPA LIVED TO TELL ABOUT IT!

The headline in the Neillsville, Wisconsin newspaper nearly a century ago read—CLARK COURT HOUSE FURNACE EXPLODES.  My grandfather, who then worked as a janitor at the court house had the surprise of a lifetime.  The assistant clerk at the court house was “cleaning house” in the office and tossed a two ounce bottle of nitroglycerin, which was 24 years old, into the waste basket.  She thought it was a harmless liquid. That was an unfortunate and nearly deadly mistake.

My grandfather OIuf took the basket to the basement and threw the contents into the furnace.  A short time later and a few steps away he heard a blast that “sounded like an old-fashioned Fourth of July celebration.”  The furnace doors flew open and all the ashes in the vicinity made their way into the room.  As the paper described it, “Oluf turned three double handsprings and when he stopped to see where he was, discovered himself on the East Side of the standpipe.”

Two men in another room were making a deal for a large supply of maple syrup when the explosion occurred.  They raced to retrieve their hats and coats and were several blocks away before “the last echo of the explosion had subsided.”

My grandfather Oluf on the right

My grandpa (on left) with my dad in later years--he lived to tell the tale!

The newspaper added, “Had the amount of nitroglycerin been of its original power the blast undoubtedly would have removed all traces of the court house.”  I wish that my grandfather was still around to tell about it.  What a tale that would have been!

"THE GIRL WHO STRUCK OUT BABE RUTH"

The fan letter to Virnie Beatrice “Jackie” Mitchell arrived without an address; it wasn’t necessary because at 17 she had made herself world famous by striking out two baseball greats—Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.  The year was 1931 and her Chattanooga Lookouts minor league team with whom she had just signed a contract, was playing an exhibition game with the mighty New York Yankees. The starting pitcher for Chattanooga was replaced and the spotlight was on Jackie.  She didn’t disappoint.  Babe Ruth stepped up to the plate and took the first pitch for a ball.  Three pitches followed—all strikes and the last one caught Babe looking. Gehrig struck out swinging on three straight pitches.  The Chattanooga crowd of 4,000 roared their approval.  A new hero had arrived, and a young woman at that!

So, who was Virnie Beatrice “Jackie” Mitchell and how did she become a female professional baseball player and a hero to thousands, if not millions?  The exact date of her birth is uncertain, but it’s thought to be between 1912 and 1914.  She was tiny at birth, just over three pounds.  She learned baseball from her father in Massachusetts when she was barely able to walk. In addition, her next door neighbor, Dazzy Vance taught her pitching skills when she was only five or six.  He was a minor leaguer then, but eventually played for the Brooklyn Dodgers and was inducted into the Hall of Fame.  He taught Jackie how to throw a “drop ball”, like a breaking ball which dropped just before reaching the plate.  At one point she attended a baseball school in Atlanta, Georgia.  She was a lefthander who excelled in other sports as well. Her father once said of her, “She is one of the greatest little athletes I ever saw.  She has one of the most deceptive pitching deliveries, hits fair and fields way above the average that a boy of her age can field.”

The Chattanooga crowd loved Jackie’s astonishing feat, but the Babe didn’t feel quite the same way.  The local newspaper quoted him as saying, “I don’t know what’s going to happen if they begin to let women in baseball.  Of course they will never make good.  Why?  Because they are too delicate.  It would kill them to play every day.”

Evidently baseball commissioner Landis felt much the same way.  He voided Jackie’s contract and deemed women unfit to play baseball as the game was “too strenuous.”

Jackie went on to play for a team known as the House of David for five years.  She retired in 1937 at the age of 23. 

The 17-year old girl who struck out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig died in 1987.  She lived a long life and once remarked that “not even the best batters can hit them all.” She made sure of that!

THE SUPER FAN!

My mother could have been a spokesperson for the Green Bay Packers.  Heading off to church on Sundays was important, but missing the Packers football game afterwards would have been unthinkable.  We didn’t stop to socialize after the service; that could be done another day.  And when we got home the TV trays were set up and lunch was quickly brought out so we rarely missed a minute of the game.  Those were the 60’s and the Packers ruled in our household, as well as millions of others all across Wisconsin and the Midwest. 

I remember one year in particular when my German mother and father-in-law came to the U.S. for a visit.  My husband and I brought them to Wisconsin to meet my parents.  My mother was friendly and engaging and intent on showing them a good time.  There was only one exception.  The Packers were an invited guest on Sunday, even though Hilde and Heinrich didn’t have a clue what American football was all about. They also didn’t understand English. They soon learned that my mother took the game seriously.  She didn’t want to be rude, but the phrase “the game must go on” was definitely meant for her. My father-in-law had fallen asleep in a recliner chair until my mother screamed uncontrollably because the Packers had scored a touchdown.  My father-in-law nearly hit the ceiling while continuing to say, “Was ist los?  Was ist los?”  Translated, I guess it was the equivalent of “What’s going on? What's going on?"  I’m sure he and my mother-in-law must have wondered how this sweet, kind lady could change so quickly.  I don’t think my mother even saw it as an embarrassing moment—she was too involved in the game.  We did the explaining and Heinz’s parents did the forgiving.  When it came to the Packers, Millie would never change.  It made her exasperating and endearing at the same time.

Sadly, those family members are no longer with us, but what rich memories.  Last year I was watching the Packers play in the Super Bowl and thinking of my mother and how she would have loved it.  At the end of the game and a victory over Pittsburgh, I felt very emotional.  I hadn’t had so much fun and relief in a long time.  I just kept jumping up and down and yelling, “I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it. This one’s for you Mom!”  I knew that I had filled in for my mother, the Super Fan and done reasonably well.  I had cheered every first down and touchdown and exceptional defensive play.  She would have felt pride in me as well as the Packers.

SUPER FANS MARTHA JEAN and LYNDA (me) -- a caricature but telling.  (Angela B.)

Now it’s nearly time for another football season and I’m excited about the Packers chances to reach the Super Bowl again.  They have plenty of stiff competition in the league, but I’m a true believer.  And now I enjoy the game more than ever because it’s just good fun, win or lose.  I know that soccer, or “football”, as most of the world calls it, is still the most popular sport by far, but for me NFL football is still the best.  My mother taught me well!