Memories – Page 13 – Valerie's Voice

Bachman’s Idea House

We’ve been taking wallpaper paste off walls, filling holes, sanding then painting and I have been deep cleaning right along to minimize the dry wall dust from settling in places it hasn’t already infiltrated. When I went to dust the top of the bookshelves in our living room I decided, since I had the ladder out, I would put up the Christmas décor we usually place there…it’s close enough to Christmas.

The vintage set on top of my bookshelves.

I inherited the black metal Santa sleigh and four reindeer candle holders from my mom. The set holds fond memories for me. My dad was a carpenter and built the house I grew up in. The fireplace was surrounded by stone and he placed three stone shelves – high to low, in step formation – for the mantel. It was the perfect place for this Christmas decoration. On the lower shelf Santa’s sleigh was set in angel hair (to depict snow or clouds?), two reindeer were one shelf higher and the last two reindeer were on the top shelf with garland cascading from sleigh to reindeer to reindeer to connect it all.

Although I don’t have the cascading shelves I put the set on top of my bookshelves with white lights underneath the angel hair, and then set the sleigh and reindeer with four red candles on top.

Last week I was at Bachman’s in Richfield to tour their Christmas Idea House and browse the many beautiful things they have for sale in their store.

The Idea House is a historic home on the property. The brochure tells me “Arthur Bachman Sr. and his wife built this home on Lyndale Avene in the early 1920’s.” Arthur was the second son of the founders of Bachman’s, Henry Sr. and Hattie Bachman. The house stayed in the family until 2001 according to the brochure.

Bachman’s Idea House – the dining room. I especially liked the bird dishes.

The theme for this year’s Idea House is “Dressed in Christmas Greenery” using “nature’s color palette.” There was much to look at, good ideas to take home and dreams for decorating my own home.

I was surprised to find they were selling black metal stick reindeer, similar to my 1950’s reindeer that I have on top of my bookshelves for the season.

Well, it’s a start.

Memorable Hike – Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming 1999

Continuing my series on memorable hikes…

Our family took many road trips across country when the boys were younger, mostly to national parks, and we hiked a lot.

A picture – of a photo – of my three guys in the Tetons (from our 1999 photo album).

One memorable hike was in Grand Teton National Park. What made this hike memorable were the butterflies. I find it interesting that I mentioned seeing beautiful butterflies on our hike in Brazil, but on this hike in the Tetons the butterflies were my companions.

One morning we started hiking together along a park trail and after hiking 4.5 miles we came to a fork in the road. For the first time ever, while hiking with my family, I decided to turn around and hike back alone while my three guys continued walking to a mountain lake. This was the first and only time I remember turning around while hiking and I don’t remember why. I do remember feeling safe, knowing it was an established park trail, and that I had enough water.

What made this hike memorable were the butterflies. While I walked alone along the path they fluttered along the side of me all the way back. I couldn’t believe it…they were my escorts, my guardian angels. I remembered it as one butterfly but my journal reminded me there were several butterflies.

My journal also reminded me that the guys continued another 2.7 miles to the mountain lake, Lake Solitude. It was there they turned around and hiked back to the ferry landing. My husband hopped on the ferry, but our two sons decided to continue hiking all the way back to the trailhead for an additional 2.5 miles which made their total 17 miles for that day.

I often think about this story and my butterfly companions. It makes me smile.

Psalm 121: 1-2

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

What a Mess!

Our house is a mess right now. We took down wallpaper that we had put up 23 years ago. It held up well but now it was time for a change. It came down easily…my husband pulled it all off while I was out running errands one day however, now we have the unpleasant task of soaking the walls and scraping off the wallpaper paste.

Yuk!

We are removing paste from the foyer, a large 2-story wall by the split stairways, and our upstairs hallway. We will paint these walls and at the same time re-paint our dining room and sun-room.

Fortunately we can picture the results of newly painted rooms, which lends to excitement and helps us continue with the arduous process.

Time has a way of slipping by. I never thought the wallpaper we had hung when we moved in would still be up 23 years later, and for that matter, the inexpensive carpet we put in the downstairs bedrooms…it’s still there. We said we’d replace that in five years. Hmm…it still looks fine.

I love our little green house on the corner (an exterior color I love and don’t ever want to change). It has been a good and comfortable place to call home. It holds many wonderful memories and a whole lot of love. We’re just changing up the colors a bit inside.

Memorable Hikes – Brazil 2004

Hiking is a favorite hobby of mine and my husband. We have gone on hundreds of hikes over the years…it is what we like to do, at home and on vacation, so I thought it would be fun to write a series about some memorable hikes. It’s tough to rate them as favorites so I’ll stick with “memorable” and not rank them in any kind of order. I keep a vacation journal so I have notes on most of our hikes (some more detailed than others I’ve discovered). Here is the first in my series of memorable hikes that I will post weekly, for awhile anyway.

Several years ago our son was a Rotary exchange student in Florianopolis, an island off the southern coast of Brazil. It is a gorgeous island and known for it’s beautiful beaches along the Atlantic Ocean. He lived there one year and had a great experience. His host families were wonderful and genuinely cared for him. It was a delight to meet them when our family went to visit after he had been living in Brazil for seven months.

His first host family (mom, dad and one son – their other son was on Rotary exchange in the US) took our family on a hike along Lagoa da Conceição, a large lagoon on the island of Florianopolis. The island itself is beautiful…and to hike along the inland lake was a special treat.

It was a hot day. The trail was semi-rough and we hiked for about an hour and a half. I saw many butterflies along the trail, including a black and purple one. I had already spotted several butterflies on this trip to Brazil, including the beautiful, iridescence blue ones and a lime-green one.

What I remember most about this hike was the destination… as we neared the end we walked down toward the lake and there on the beach were some shade trees, a swing set, a few chickens running around and children playing in the sand. There was a quaint open-air café on the sandy shores of Lagoa da Conceição. It was a great spot to stop, rest, cool off, swing and get something cold to drink, and food to eat. We were the only customers at the café. It was family- owned and run. We found a wonderful place to sit at a table under the trees near the water.

We ordered a beer; it tasted so good because the beer was so cold and the air was so hot, and so were we from hiking in the heat. Next the appetizers started coming – shrimp, squid, and other kinds of fish – all delicious. Then we ordered main dishes for everyone to share family-style. We spent over two hours eating and enjoying our time together in this lovely setting.

And then, to our surprise and delight, they had ordered a boat taxi to bring us back to the trail-head. Instead of hiking back we had a pleasant, relaxing boat ride on the beautiful lake, Lagoa da Conceição.

It was a lovely day and memorable hike with wonderful friends.

Retirement, so far…

Over the summer people asked me if I was enjoying my retirement and I answered, “I’m not sure yet since I always had summers off. I’ll see what it’s like this fall.”

Well, fall has come and it has been busy with our annual trek to the north shore, our son home from Africa for a week and going to New Mexico to see the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta. Those activities were wonderful, and a sign of retirement, but it wasn’t until last week that it really hit me.

Last Monday was the first day of Christmas Festival ticket sales. That was part of my job for the last 12 years so when the clock struck 9 on Monday morning I visualized the hustle and bustle going on in one little office area of St. Olaf College…producing huge results. I thought of all the folks racing the clock to order their tickets online and all the chaos of the moment. A wonderful and smart 2016 St. Olaf graduate took my job. He worked with me last year on the Christmas Festival so he knew the ticket sales system, and he knew of the usual chaos that goes along with it. It made for a smooth transition.

My supervisor, who became a dear friend, also retired in July (that was instrumental in my decision to retire). She had been at St. Olaf College for 31 years and the two of us were responsible for the C’fest (our affectionate term) ticket sales. We got together last week for coffee, which turned into 2 1/2 hours of conversation. On our way out of the coffee shop a retiree from St. Olaf stopped us to ask about Christmas Festival tickets…we smiled…and there we were…talking tickets sales once again.

It was fun to sit down with my friend and visit without time constraints. It is peaceful to go to the doctor’s office and not feel hurried to get back to work. The freedom in retirement is nice.

I’m grateful for the interesting job I enjoyed for 12 years. And I am grateful that I am healthy and able to enjoy retirement.

So now when people ask me, “How’s retirement?” I can truly say it’s great!

An Orphanage in Owatonna, Minnesota

The main building of the orphanage is now Owatonna’s City Administration building.

We happened upon some fascinating history in Owatonna, Minnesota a few years ago while driving around the town. We came across some beautiful, older buildings that we found out were originally used as an orphanage. The buildings are listed on the National Register of Historic Places as a Historic District. Unfortunately the buildings were closed the day we discovered them. We always wanted to go back to learn more and so we did.

The Minnesota State Public School for Dependent and Neglected Children was, at one time, the third largest orphanage in the country. This is an excerpt from the museum brochure: “Between 1886 and 1945 there were 10,635 children orphaned, abused or abandoned and sent to this orphanage in Owatonna, Minnesota.”

The orphanage was phased out by 1945 and for the next twenty-five years the school provided academic and vocational training for the educable mentally disabled.

After standing empty for four years, the City of Owatonna purchased the campus to use for its administration offices (in 1974).

The Orphanage Museum is currently housed in the City Administration Building. There are several display cabinets with very interesting photos, artifacts, and letters telling stories of those forgotten children and the lives they led in the orphanage. It was pretty heart wrenching.

Again, from the brochure, “They were called “State Schoolers: for some it was a circle of hell; for others, a safe haven.”

But the most somber part of our exploring was finding the cemetery. I took a photo of the plaque outside the cemetery and below the photo are excerpts written out:

The plaque at the entrance of the fenced-in State Public School Children’s Cemetery telling the history of the cemetery.

History of State Public School Children’s Cemetery

1886-1945 – During the 59 year history of the State Public School for Dependent and Neglected Children, over 300 children died while under state guardianship: 198 are buried in this cemetery, unclaimed by family. Some were buried under the cover of darkness because of contagious disease. Few, if any, ever had a flower left on their grave. The average age at death was approximately four years old.

Causes of death included diphtheria, measles, drowning, TB, cancrum ori, anemia, diarrhea, exhaustion, and marasmus. Marasmus is defined as “wasting and emaciation of an infant for no discoverable cause.” Today we would say “Failure to thrive for lack of love.” Children also died from accidents (one killed by an elk, another a football injury), and a ruptured appendix.

In the early years, tombstones were erected. For unknown reasons, the state discontinued this practice. Children were then simply buried with their identification number etched on a cement slab.

1945 – Orphanage was phased out and the cemetery all but forgotten. Weeds and grass grew tall. Few people knew or remember it existed.

1993 – With the help of many community volunteers and contributors, the memorial and 151 named crosses were erected for those children buried only by a number. The memorial and crosses were dedicated in a community observance July 3, 1993.

1995- Owatonna City Council approved burial of 83 year old Fredrick Berndt. Berndt spent his entire childhood at the State Public School (19212-1927), and his “most desired wish” was to be buried among the children he so loved. A Christian burial was provided by Owatonna citizens November 1, 1995.

1992 – Owatonna City Council approved plans for Gerald “Bud” Blekeberg to build a permanent memorial.

A cross with a child’s name erected where once there was just a number.

I am grateful for the love I experience from my family and friends, and that I know God’s love. My heart goes out to all those forgotten children. But I believe they were not forgotten by God. As the memorial reads:

1888-1942

TO THE CHILDREN WHO REST HERE

MAY THE LOVE YOU LACKED IN LIFE

NOW BE YOUR REWARD IN HEAVEN

YOU ARE REMEMBERED

Colored Glass

The Minnesota fall has been warm and wonderful. There have been many days to go outside to play, or work, or a little of both…(balance!)

So I went outside one, fine day to clean off our deck. I picked up a shiny, orange glass dish sitting on the table and took a trip down memory lane as I remembered where it came from.

Back in junior high, maybe – I’m not sure how old I was, I bought this orange dish for my parents to give them on their anniversary (I must have borrowed money from my dad to do so – ha!) but I can clearly see this dish displayed on shelves in the J. C. Penney store at the Apache Plaza Mall, near my childhood home in NE Minneapolis (the mall no longer exists.) It was sitting on a clear, glass shelf with other beautiful glass pieces. I sometimes marvel at the things I remember (and the things I have a hard time recalling!)

Years ago when my mom moved into an apartment and downsized she asked me if I wanted the dish back, so I took it. I couldn’t believe she saved it all those years. But what I thought was interesting is that even back then, when I was so much younger, I was attracted to colored-glass. Little did I know I’d collect colored-glass vases and dishes in antique stores as an adult.

My colored-glass collection on old Singer sewing machine wrought-iron stand. I replaced the broken cabinet with a clear glass shelf to display the colored-glass pieces. A string of lights help show it off after dark.

I especially like green glass but all colors attract me. I find fun things to do with them…use them in place settings to serve ice cream or dessert, put single stems in the vases to decorate a place setting… it’s even a joy to wash them and see them shine.

A few of my dishes in an Amish-made cupboard with clear, glass doors.

An Iris in a lavender colored-glass vase.

As I collected other items off the deck to bring in for the winter I took inventory of a blue, glass ball hanging off the pergola (also from my mother), along with a red glass flower hanging for decoration, a glass hummingbird feeder, and a white glass globe with a candle inside on another table.

So hard to capture this beautiful display of colored-glass…

In April 2014, when I first started blogging, I had a post about colored-glass on a different site. I copied an excerpt from that post and copied it below…

“…While exploring the town, our stroll down Main Street took us into an antique shop where I found a bright, orange, glass basket that would go well with a new picture in our dining room. When I went to the counter to purchase it, the clerk asked, “Do you like color?” Well, yes, I do! It was an unexpected but interesting question. I do enjoy color…in everything: flowers, in nature, in décor, in clothing, in all of creation. And I enjoy scouting antique stores for colored glass and I occasionally find a piece to bring home for my colored-glass collection.

I’ve been thinking of that question a lot these days as I notice Spring bringing new life and color all around me.”

The orange basket on my African tablecloth on my dining room table.

I made the star-shape glass piece in the window at a fused-glass art class.

I think porcelain and pottery are beautiful too, but give me a colored-glass piece any day.

The End of NIght

I finished reading The End Of Night; Searching for Natural Darkness in an Age of Artificial Light by Paul Bogard. Folks on the BWCA trip recommended the book. I requested it from the library and when I picked it up I wondered how a 270 page book on artificial light could possibly hold my interest, but it did. Simply put, it addresses light pollution and it’s affect on our planet, our bodies, our lives. It was written in 2013…who knew there are groups out there advocating for better type of lighting in our cities (all over the world) so we don’t “drowned out” the Milky Way?

I started reading the book at the cabin up on the north shore. While having a campfire on the rocks our last evening, the sky was clear. It was a new moon, therefore there was no light competition for the stars. I have always paid attention to the phases of the moon, especially when we go up north. After the campfire I suggested we get in the car and drive to the top of the hill on Sawbill Trail and turn out the car lights to stargaze. We did. On the hill we were far away from artificial light: no city lights, no cabin lights, no headlights…and it was spectacular to see the beautiful dome of stars.

In church recently I talked with a woman who had just returned from “up north” and mentioned how her young son was amazed to see so many stars in the night sky, unlike what he sees at home. This is one reason of concern in the book.

Reading the book brought back a couple of memories. One evening, when our boys were younger, we were camping in northern MN with two other families. The air was still and the sky was clear. After dark, we all hiked to the small lake in the campground and saw the stars reflecting in the calm, unruffled water. It was a stunning scene and one I have thought of several times through the years.

Another special outdoor, nighttime memory is walking with a friend when the moon was full. At first we joined organized hikes with a naturalist, but after a few months we just started walking on our own on nights when the sky was clear and the moon was full. It was great and we had enough light from the moon to walk the path without flashlights.

I love light, as most people do, but this book gave me a new appreciation for our need for darkness too, and for our wonderful, magnificent night sky.

Uncle Craig

When talking with my nephew at his daughter’s funeral service yesterday he mentioned this experience of losing a baby made them remember “his Uncle Craig” and it took me a moment to register that thought…I’m his Aunt Valerie.

Craig was my mother’s second child. Craig Richard was born on October 19, 1951, three years after my older brother and two years before me. He lived for five hours. My mother never talked about that experience. He is buried at Ft. Snelling along side our mother and father.

A Precious Letter

Below is a sweet and very precious letter written in 1952 by Johannes Kaldestad to his brothers Torkel (my grandfather) and William who both immigrated from Norway to America. It is filled memories of their mother, Brita Hovland. Brita would be my great-grandmother. I can only hope to leave a legacy like hers.

My Dear Brothers,

Today I write letters with the same content to you, my dear brothers. When I write in this way, it is to remind you that on the 15^th of March it will be 100 years since our mother was born. You don’t remember so much of mother. You, Torkel, were only 7 years and William (Velom) only 5 years when mother died. I was 11 years and seven months, and I have kept many memories of mother from weekends and working days. I can see her in my mind, alive before me, working in the home, sewing clothes, cooking, washing clothes and walking like a sunbeam in and out of the living room.

You probably remember the old kitchen with a little room in each end. She didn’t have much space to move in, but she was satisfied with what she had. She was a mother in the right meaning of the word. Loving, thoughtful, loved the home and her husband and children; with thanks to God for each day she could live her life in service for those she loved so much.

I can see her at the baking table in the out(side) house. One day I helped her with carrying water from the well. Dad stood beside her putting flat bread and lefse in a box to bring to the herring fishing. They were so gentle and good to each other. Soft and gentle words of the fishing luck they expected, and about the children and the home that mother should care for while father was away.

One of the richest memories I have kept was when mother went to the food room and prayed to God for her family and herself. I stood outside the door and listened to her burning prayers.

In the evenings she could find the songbook “Zions Harp” and sing herself into another world. I thought heaven had moved into our living room.

This was a little picture of our mother in working days and weekends. Now she has rested for 60 years in the grave. She died the 3^rd of March, 1892. That was a tough time for father. I can see dad with tears in his eyes the day he came to me and said mother id dying. I couldn’t say a word. It burned in my heart, so I lost all my thought, while the tears were flowing. When I came to myself again I said to father, “If mother dies tonight you must wake me. I will stand by mother’s side when she dies.” That night I slept at my uncle’s and dad came and woke me up, and when I came to her bed she had stopped breathing. I had a talk with mother the day before she died. About this conversation and the time I stood at mother’s bed, I will tell when we meet. It is sacred moments that I never forget as long as I possess a clear thought.

It didn’t seem to be light (easy) for father when mother went away. Five small children left and the first maid we had was Kristin. We also had grandmother to help in the house – without her I don’t know how it would have gone the first year. But God made it so good for us.

After Anna, our stepmother, came into the house, we were all right in many ways. She was kind and capable in all the work of the house. She sewed clothes, washed and repaired, so everything was clean and in good shape at any time, and we had enough food. And she took much care of our sick brother Haktor who walked there helpless for many years before he moved to the Eternal home.

The 14^th November 1953 it will be 100 years since our father was born. I put this inscription on father’s gravestone “A Good Father”, and that expresses my deepest heart feelings of father’s behavior in the home. He was truly a good father.

May God bless the memories of mother and father. And may God help us, and ours, and lift the heritage from our fathers (and mothers) so it can bring light for us and others through this difficult world. Johannes

(This letter was translated to English by my Norwegian cousin’s son. I deleted two paragraphs to shorten the letter.)