GENE A. ANDERSON SR.

Gene A. Anderson, age 64 of Dunseith, died Friday, January 24, 2014 at his home. Funeral services will be held on Thursday, January 30, 2014 at 11:00 A.M. in the Earth/Eagleheart Cultural Center in Dunseith. Visitation will be Wednesday beginning at 4:00 P.M. in the Cultural Center. Cremation will take place after the services.

Gene (Ole. Grey Pony) was born on April 20, 1949 to Arol (Bud) Anderson and Norma (Handeland) Anderson in Rolette, ND. He was one of four children reared by them. He attended school in Wetherelt School until he was in the 5th grade and then enrolled in the Dunseith Public School and graduated from there in 1967. He worked on the family farm for a few years and for Morgan Lumber Company of Dunseith.

He married his wife of 44 years, Beverly (LaVallie) Anderson on April 12, 1969. Together they raised two children, Pamela and a son, Gene, Jr. Gene lived in the Dunseith area all his life and worked as a heavy equipment operator, where he was known as the best in the state, until he retired in 2002 for health reasons. He was a member of the Local 49 Operators Union. Later, he went to work for Rolette County for a couple of years and then went strictly to farming, buying the Carrol l Carlson farm. He lived on the farm until his passing on January 24, 2014.

He enjoyed farming, his farm animals, especially Charley, the donkey and his two dogs, Nick and Ace. He enjoyed spending time with his daughter and all of his 8 grandchildren. He enjoyed watching the grandchildren compete in wrestling, football, volleyball and basketball. One of his favorite pastimes was playing the four nickel machines at the Mini Casino in Belcourt. He enjoyed the sport of hunting deer with his grandsons, son-in-law Max, and friends.

Gene is survived by his loving wife, Beverly, a daughter, Pamela Defender (Max), eight grandchildren: Amanda, Seth, Devin, Cheyenne, Emylee, Abby, Max (Moose), and Magee. Also surviving are his sister, Glenda Bergan (David) of Dunseith, a brother, Lorenzo Anderson of Bottineau, and many nieces and nephews.

He was preceded in death by his son, Gene, Jr., one brother, Gerald, and both of his parents.

Gary and friends,

I really was taken  by the photos Marshall Awalt shared a few years ago. 

 One summer afternoon, after my Dad and Johnny Awalt passed away my  mom and I visited   Gertrude Awalt  for coffee in Rolla.  We drank it black, not strong and had a little 4:00 afternoon lunch.

Gertrude showed us her photo  album,  she let my mom borrow and copy, a photo,  I call it   “4 Little Rascals”;Jim, Lucky,Archie Metcalfe and Charlie Anderson.  Mom, then, made copies for many of the Metcalfe family.   

Fondly, I’m reminded now and again, whenever I see that photo, of those “4 Little Rascals” . They each grew up to be amazing men.  Charlie  Anderson  a friend to everyone he met. Charlie, was a  warm,  kind, gentle soul,we’d see in Dunseith on Saturday nights.  The other three, Uncle’s, Lucky, Jim, and Archie  embodied  North Dakota work ethic. They  were strong sturdy men who worked hard.  They’d tell you what was wrong. And, stood for what was right. They each kept life long friendships,  many beginning  at Rabbit City Lake community. They loved honesty, laughter,visiting, and music.  And, they each  married neighbor girls  of the hills.  Girls of  Norwegian descent who made strong black coffee, and wonderful lefse, julikakka, buns, date filled cookies, beet pickles, and full country meals.

When i became  an adult, I’ve had the pleasure of taking many trips, with several  young adolescents.  I wanted them to experience visiting the West coast city of Seattle, where my father journeyed to by train with his friend Bill Peterson in the early 40’s. A place,  my parents as a young married couple, first lived  in 1947 across the street from Woodlawn Park Zoo.  Dad apprenticed and earned his journeyman  degree in plastering with his brother Emil after serving in WWII.

The first trip with me and the kid, my wee brother .  ( Later,  I took 8  nieces and nephew’s various times)  I believe  a child needs to know their heritage, the  people, place, culture they came from. 

To claim their own personal  power, a  child needs to know their Identity and be connected. That idea has  become part of my my personal belief system.

 My brother S. went first.  After driving  for three and 1/2 days to N. Seattle, now called Shoreline to Aunt Jean’s he was homesick.   Jean and Uncle Waino Maki, opened their home which we used as our base camp.  While there, 2 weeks, I slept on the living room floor with my hand over my homesick brothers shoulder.  Aunt Jean  kept  Shan  occupied  by playing  War with cards every waking moment. She fed that kid until he  went home two weeks later 15 pounds heavier.  Jean whipped up every goody i.e. “Tea tea” she could bake.  She liked hearing that  her big  brother Cliff told S. that Jean made the best ( treats), “Tea,teas”…..

 While in the Seattle area we journeyed on Washington ferries crossing Puget Sound.  We drove all the way to the coast  leaving  footprints in the sand, splashing in the cold waters of the  Pacific eating a picnic lunch on the low tide. We day tripped to the locks, Pike Place Market and to Woodland Park Zoo,  Granite Falls, Deception Pass, and drove to Marysville.  We spoke quietly,sitting  by the graves of Uncle Archie  and Grandma Rose as we gazed east  beyond the Cascades. 

One evening,  Uncle Lucky and Aunt Jennie (Nelson) Metcalfe called every Metcalfe in the greater Seattle area for an open house family gathering.  Turkey, potatoes. julakaka and coffee or kool-aide.

Amidst the visiting, eating and card playing, the coffee pot was emptied.   I went to the kitchen  found  Uncle Lucky  sitting in thought, alone by the coffee pot. “ Shall I make some more coffee?”  His graveling bass voice  responded, “ Well you can make some coffee. But DON’T make it like your mother!”  

 uh… “huh?”, I said.  He looked at me kindly and gruffly said, “Every time, we go to your parents house, Jennie and I drive home, talking about your mother.  We say, “Lottie’s nice  and puts on a good lunch, but she sure doesn’t know how to make a good pot of coffee! You can see the bottom of the cup, it  tastes like hot water  with some kind of brown colouring!”  

Then  just as adamantly,  “Make it black Vickie. BLACK,”  He said, “Make it thick black.  So black and thick a person can stand a knife in it.”   He went on talking about a Minda ? Nelson  who made the best coffee.” “So black and thick a knife couLd be stood in it.”

He smiled in memory, “She made it on a wood  cookstove and she  never washed the coffee pot, just kept adding more ground coffee”.  “Washing the pot ruins the coffee, you know.”

“Really? uh, Huh,” I chuckled, and  remembered …….. all the times….. sitting in the back seat of a station wagon, sleepy and a  drowsy, happy from a  pleasant time at Uncle Lucky’s in Seattle or Uncle Jim’s N of our farm.

 Dad driving, with his arm out the window, summer, fall, winter, spring_Fresh air hitting the face….Home__on our way _Home from going visiting…hearing  mom and dad,  voices  in quiet tones about the evening,, “ It  was a nice visit,but we will never sleep through the night. “(whichever place they’d been) “Ella/Jennie really puts out a nice lunch, but that coffee was too strong…….”

I would slumber contented,wake for a bit when the fresh air hit.   Until we got home, keeping the thought,  I really like my aunts, uncles and cousins.  At  the time, I knew,  this was the way it always was and  always will be forever and ever. Amen.

 My Uncles with their wives of Norwegian descent  making UFFDA strong coffee and my Dad with my  mother of English-Irish descent who really liked drinking weak coffee. Those folks,  if they  complained about each other at all ____it  was only  on the strength of the coffee.

It was the best of families.   I loved the whole lot. And felt,  I was loved by the whole lot of them. If any thing ever happened to my parents,  I knew I d be safe with Aunts and Uncles who  take care of me.

Now the all these years have gone___ bye. I hold those sweet memories close and say softly,  “as for  me, if I drink,  I like my coffee with lots of cream and sugar……”

Thanks to the Awalt family for the photo memory.

Vickie