Memories – Page 14 – Valerie's Voice

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.)

Independence Day

Happy 4th of July!

My Norwegian relatives, Bente and Kari, are modeling headbands with American Flags.
Such beautiful smiles!!!

Norway Ties: Past and Present

Once upon a time, back in the 1800’s, Haktor Kaldestad married Brita Hovland. They were my great grandparents who lived in Norway and had five children. Johannes (born in 1878) and Torkel (born in 1887) were two of their five children.

Haktor Kaldestad (1853-1892) is the man next to the flagpole in the back.

Torkel, my grandfather, married Elizabeth and they had four children. They immigrated to the United States. Herbert, my father, was one of their sons.

In the 1960’s Herbert began working on his ancestry and started making contact with his family in Norway. Herbert traveled to Norway in 1969 to re-connect with them, and it has been a very good thing as our families continue to connect with each other to this day.

Johannes, Torkel’s brother, married Sella and they had five children. They lived in Norway. Hakon was one of their sons (a first cousin to Herb). Hakon had four children: Jomar, Anund, Heine and Siv.

Last week Jomar and his wife Bente, Heine and his wife Kari, flew to Minnesota from Norway for a vacation in the United States, to visit family and travel to the East Coast. We were grateful we were a part of their itinerary. It was a delight to have them stay with us for a couple of nights. It was not the first time they have been here…they have been to our home in Northfield before, and we have been in their homes in Norway.

We had such a good time filled with lots of laughter and joy. Many more good memories were made to add to our collection of great times together.

Happy to be hosting cousins and their wives from Norway.

The one thing I thought of as we were talking about our ancestors is that my great-grandchildren will probably not know my name, or my husband’s name. Without our ancestry chart I would not have known the names of my grandparent’s parents…how fleeting our lives are.

So I hope to make a difference in the lives of my children and grandchildren.

“Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.
Remind me that my days are numbered—
how fleeting my life is.” Psalm 39:4

When I’m Sixty-four

Today I leave the St. Olaf Campus for the last time as an employee of the college. It’s a little surreal to call myself retired but I look forward to the next season of life.

I became curious as to how old my mother was when she retired so I looked back in our photo albums and found pictures from our family retirement party for her. I have such a different perspective now of that time in her life…she was alone (my dad died right before his retirement in 1974) and my mom lived another 22 years after her retirement.

She was 64 years old when she retired and so am I! Somehow it seems to be another confirmation of this step!

Commencement Weekend at St. Olaf College

I surprised myself when tears came to my eyes as I walked through St. Olaf campus very early this morning. I thought to myself this is the last commencement weekend I will work. It was such a beautiful morning, and it was so quiet and peaceful as the sun rose to display a gorgeous blue sky which made it apparent the ceremony would be held outdoors – that is always the preferred plan and the one we hope for.

The outdoor location was moved from the Manitou Field (the football field) up to the Campus Green for the first time this year. Mellby Hall was the wonderful backdrop for the party platform. 5,000 chairs were set up for the graduates, faculty, family, friends and guests and jumbo screens were put in place to offer up close views for the folks in the back.

Mellby Hall in background, setting up 5,000 chairs and jumbo screens for 2017 commencement ceremony at St. Olaf College

Later in the day, after I cleaned up the registration area (my responsibility over the weekend) and folks found their seats, I walked away just as the faculty and graduates were walking to take their seats for the commencement ceremony. Such pomp and circumstance. What a wonderful tradition. What an exciting time for the students and their families

The beautiful sky as I left the campus as the commencement ceremony was just beginning.

Just as I started the morning eight hours earlier, I walked away with tears in my eyes and mixed emotions…this was my last Commencement Weekend “on the hill” as I retire next week.

The beginnings of the mosaic where graduates and family members could pick a “paint chip” (the theme of the Graduation Gala Saturday night) and add it to the board to make a mosaic of what? – they didn’t know.

The mosaic of Old Main on St. Olaf Campus, completed Saturday night at the St. Olaf College Graduation Gala.

Frog and Toad and the Circus

I went to the Minneapolis Children’s Theater production of A Year with Frog and Toad last week. It was a delightful rendition of the stories from the Frog and Toad “I can read” book series. We read the books when my guys were young and these sweet stories of Frog and Toad’s friendship and escapades have come alive on the stage. It was very enjoyable.

Another childhood entertainment, Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus – The Greatest Show on Earth – had its very last performance on Sunday May 21, in New York. Although I didn’t attend the circus much (we took the boys once and I remember going as a little girl) it seems the circus was a very big deal…most people refer to the circus at times and we all seem to understand the lingo… so I “tuned in” to watch the last performance live-stream for a while. Observing the acrobats and contortionists, who are truly athletic, doing their amazing stunts, viewing the animal trainer in the arena with fourteen lions and tigers and getting them to obey his commands, tracking the clowns and their antics all did their job to cheer me up. It’s a little sad to know the greatest show on earth has come to an end of an era.