Frank lived in the area a couple miles east of our farm. He was related to the Glenn Weaver family.

    Glen was married to  C about his memories of the Bass family. He recalled Frank coming back from Montana

Jim K

Dave Slyter (70)

June 18, 1939 ~ May 1, 2014

Rochelle H. (Pigeon) Schneider, 74, Sioux Falls, died Thursday, May 1, 2014, at the Dougherty Hospice Home in Sioux Falls.

Visitation will be Monday, May 5, 2014, from 3-7pm, at Linwood Wesleyan Church, Sioux Falls, with family present, 5-7pm. Funeral services will be Tuesday, May 6th, 11:00am, also at Linwood Wesleyan, with Pastor Bob McHenry officiating. Internment will take place Thursday, May 8, at the Black Hills National Cemetery, at 10:30am.

Rochelle H. Pigeon was born June 18, 1939, to Bae and Pearl (Stevens) Pigeon. She was raised on the family farm near Dunseith, ND, and she attended and graduated from DHS in 1958. Rochelle met a young man and on June 18, 1960, she married Stanley Schneider. In 1961, the couple moved to Rapid City where they resided for most of their life together. Rochelle worked part time at the Jolly Lane Greenhouse. The family expanded when their daughter, Cyndy came into their lives and Rochelle elected to stay home and raise her. In 1981, she began working at Landstrom’s Jewelry in the production of Black Hills gold jewelry. She remained there for over 14 years. Rochelle and Stanley loved to travel and for several years they traveled to Yuma, AZ, in their motorhome. Unfortunately, Stanley died in 2003 and eventually Rochelle moved to Sioux Falls to be closer to her grandchildren.

Rochelle was a woman of many talents. She loved to cook and bake and cake decorating. She loved her roses and gardening was a major pastime. Sewing and mending also occupied her life as she made several dresses and other clothing for her family. You could also count on finding her television on QVC as she loved to shop. Rochelle loved spending time with her granddaughters and supported every event they participated in including musical performances and sporting events. She was very active with her church, Linwood Wesleyan, by assisting in the kitchen for any event and with her Sunday-School group as they met for coffee or other social events. She was seen regularly for coffee at both HyVee and Panera Bread with her friends. She also traveled with them to Branson, MO and other places. She also participated in the Red Hat Society.

Rochelle will be deeply missed by her daughter, Cyndy (Brad) Johnson, Sioux Falls; two granddaughters, Sarah and Katie Johnson; and two brothers, Bruce Pigeon, Garrison, ND, and Russell Pigeon, of Pick City, ND.

Rochelle was preceded in death by her parents, Bae and Pearl; her husband, Stanley; and one brother, Gary

The great economic depression was extremely difficult for many families. There were many years of drought and cold winters.  To the N.W. Lydie Lake dried up completely. The elder Metcalfe boys hired out with farmers such as the Wicks brothers of Little Prairie and down in the prairie foothills Cage McKay.

I  recall  witnesses for Jim and Ella were Mr. and Mrs. George Cota’s.

In 1934 Jim married Ella Evan’s daughter of Martin and Randina (Svingen) Evans..

Like singing, I know I make many mistakes, sometimes off key  but I
really try to hit the important notes!.

Eleanor’s Story continued

Bill and Mary Metcalfe after moving from Rabbit City Lake
lived out their lives in Willow Lake Township.

After Jack was born, adding to the family came Lorraine
and Larry was the only one born in a hospital.  The children attended
Wetheralt School. Bill served on the School Board.  Among their many
neighbors were Deitrich’s, Eurich’s, Howerys/Strongs  and dear friends
Jennie and Clarence Handland.  Eleanor recalls riding in a buggy with
a neighbor girl friend, Henry Deitrich’s step-daughter.

As a common practice of the time,  many young people in
their teens worked as “chore girls” or “chore boys” for room and
board  with much of their  salary taken home to help provide for their
family.
Eleanor did her share of helping her family.

With a war in Germany then the attack on Pearl Harbor,
Eleanor said, “Able bodied men went off fight, but any one who wished
to work contributed to the war effort in other ways.

When she was 19 years old, Eleanor and a couple of rural
Dunseith friends heard about defense work on the West coast. Two
Nerpel siblings; Clifford, his next younger sister and Eleanor boarded
a bus together heading  West where another older Nerpel sister and
husband lived and worked.

They arrived in a northern coastal area of Oregon about 10
miles south of  Mount Hood. At the side of the highway they rented a
little cabin with a kitchen area. Since by then, they were all over 18
they went to work immediately in commercial shipyards.  Clifford’s
sister went north each day to work on the bigger ships, while Eleanor
and Clifford found work building the smaller ships at Swan Island.
When hired it was mandatory for part of their wages toward  the
purchase of “war bonds”.

Clifford who was quite talented, began welding intricate
work. Eleanor had to take welding classes.  She found herself moving
with ease from one exercise to another.

Passing classes and tests consistently, one day Eleanor
found herself way down, in the bottom of a ship, in a very tight
quarters.  It was a small tight place where she had to crawl on her
tummy into water tanks and weld.

As she was on her back welding, a booming voice from the
entry way called to her. He was a “midget”  (Little Person)who came to
inspect her work. That supervisor was able to walk into the water tank
without stooping or crawling to inspect her work.  She passed the test!

Now  she was cleared to go up into “crow’s nest” welding
high above the open water. After a time she began instructing others.
One day when Eleanor quietly focused on a weld, she felt a presence,
was suddenly startled she “YELPed!” He was one  of the tallest
American Indian men she had ever encountered. And he had, silently
appeared.  He softlly spoke, “Don’t worry my little one I haven’t
eaten anyone lately.” Then, he chuckled. She said he later told her he
was Blackfoot and felt no fear whenever she supervised his welding.

She and her Aunt Leona exchanged letters.  Leona, north in
the Seattle area was working on air planes a “Rosie the Rivetor”.
Leona was quick with catching hot welds!  Leona in one letter wrote to
Eleanor, “Eleanor, if any one bothers you or hurts you, let me know, I
will come or you can come here!”

Eleanor Rose Metcalfe and Clifford Nerpel were married in
March of 1944.

There was becoming evident in time with victories on the German front,
men were coming back to the USA. They needed work and  women who
worked the ship building jobs stepped aside so returning veterans
could go to work.

Eleanor told me, it was beginning  to be noticed, workers
not tending  to their work obligations. Some were in out of the way
places hiding, playing cards and gambling on the job.   When this
happened, the next shift of workers would find themselves finishing
incomplete work  from the prior shift and doing their own to keep up.

One day an altercation happened that was forever etched in
Eleanor’s mind. A superisor got angry. Very MAD! About work that had
not been completed.  Losing his temper, started yelling. He picked up
a metal rod. She and her husband  Clifford witnessed as a  black man
was hit and beaten.  He died before the law got there.

Clifford  said to her, “We don’t belong here, we’re to
sensitive for this”.  They quit their jobs, cashed in war bonds,
packed up  and headed back to North Dakota.

Arriving back in Dunseith they purchased milking polled
shorthorns.  Kathy and Kenny were  born with in a year of each other.
The Archie Metcalfe Farm where they lived was their first ND married
home. When it came out on bids  they hoped to buy it and were
disappointed not to  have the winning bid.

They found employment at Dunseith Red Owl working for
Lucien and Hannah Bedard. Clifford worked in the meat Department
cutting and wrapping meat whileEleanor clerked and stocked shelves.

Later,  she said   “It was Lucian and Hannah who helped
them purchase the McDermitt Farm.”

Clifford worked construction. Eleanor worked as the
“Central telephone operator, which was located by Kelvin Store.

While Eleanor worked at San Haven until it’s closing, her
husband Clifford passed away. She then worked under Stella as  cook
atm the Dunseith Public School for fourteen years  she working with
Louella Dion. She was frightened witless when  Stella told her she had
decided to leave for 2 weeks and was leaving her  in charge!   She was
delighted after Stella came back she did okay.

Before Eleanor moved into Rugby Haaland Home, she lived in
a Dunseith Housing Apartment  unit across from the City Hall.  She
often supplemented her rent by cleaning an apartment when it became
vacant.

In my earliest memories, I always knew Eleanor as one of
my quiet cousins.  She would be one in kitchen area washing dishes and
quietly visiting with whoever came looking for a cup of coffee.  And
whenever Uncle Emil and Ann came back to visit on a trip from
Washington, Eleanor’s was on his list as a favored  overnight staying
place.

Another memory._____a guilty one.

It was me.  I  was the one who  picked up  and answered
the old ringer telephone, I still feel guilty I neglected  tell my dad
to return a call in a timely manner.

That day in August 1960 our Grandma Rose died.

Sometimes though, pleasant memories cancel out the bad.

I will never forget Eleanor coming out of the kitchen when she was
convinced to come and  sing into Aunt Leona’s  hand held  big reel  to
reel tape recorder at the 1961 New Years Day Metcalfe Family Reunion.
Uncle Emil, along with Uncles Lucky and Charlie, Aunts Jean and Leona
drove back to ND arriving to bring in the New Year.  They recalled
their childhood of long ago, when New Year’s Eve and Day were
important in the Metcafe home.
Was it Grandma’s French heritage or Grandpa Bill’s Hogmanny?

It was a day Grandma’s Rose’s family gathered at Uncle
Jim’s.  Singing and eating from 10:00 a.m until into the night____Emil
played guitar, Charlie fiddled, Everyone took turns singing. All  ate
and cheerfully visited.

And, through the day all  with  encouraging nod and smile, Aunt Leona
sat holding  the hand held microphone.  ( It was really  a new –
fangled toy)

Eleanor sang, “I found My Thrill on Blueberry Hill”.

I give thanks for the blessing to special times shared
together with Eleanor at the Haaland Home visiting and reminiscing.

Until later Vickie=

Donna D. Murry, 86, Bismarck, died April 18, 2014, at her home. Services will be held at 10:30 a.m. Tuesday, April 22, at Trinity Lutheran Church, Bismarck, with the Rev. Steve Sathre officiating.

The family will greet visitors from 4 to 5 p.m. Monday at Parkway Funeral Service, 2330 Tyler Parkway, Bismarck.

Donna Deane (Kleve) Murry was born to Elick and Dorothy (Ployhar) Kleve in Bismarck Hospital on May 28, 1927. She grew up in McClusky and graduated from McClusky High School at the age of 16. She then moved to Bismarck and attended Bismarck Junior College. Donna received her bachelor’s degree from UND and was a member of the Delta Delta Delta sorority. Donna taught at the State Industrial School (now YCC) after graduating.

On June 20, 1948, Donna married C. Emerson Murry at Trinity Lutheran Church in Bismarck. They had six children. A mother and grandmother extraordinaire, she devoted endless hours of dedication to shape the Christian values of love and family.

Donna cherished the time spent with her family, her bridge club, her church circle and her Thursday morning coffee group. She was an active member of PEO. Donna was passionate about many activities including reading, all card games, Sudoku, crosswords, rosemaling, knitting, cooking, stained glass, flower gardening, antiques and furniture refinishing. She was an avid traveler, visiting dozens of countries in five continents with her husband.

Donna organized the logistics of many family horseshows, camping, skiing, hunting, and boating trips. Her grandchildren remember the many activities she planned, especially weekly dinners and Pecan Sandies before church school. She was an accomplished hostess, who regularly welcomed family, friends and professional colleagues to her well-stocked table. She was classically fashionable with a modern flare. Donna relished bonfires as well as setting fires under her children and grandchildren. She was no fan of idleness and did not suffer fools gladly. She is renowned for her sour cream chocolate cake, great talent for storytelling, and acerbic wit.

Donna is survived by her children, Barbara Murry, Bismarck, Karla (Curtis) Stanley, Bismarck, Susan Gerenz, Bismarck, Chuck (Rene) Murry, Seattle, and Bruce (Lisa) Murry, Bismarck; 13 grandchildren, Angela Bushaw, Tom (Nikki) Bushaw, Mimi Stanley, Ross Stanley, Nick Gerenz, Kaylyn Gerenz, Rebecca Gerenz, Matthew Gerenz, Marit Murry, Jessie Murry, Kathryn Alexander, Erika Murry, and Perrin Murry; and one great-grandchild, Leif Emerson Bushaw.

Donna was preceded in death by her husband of 62 years, Emerson; her infant son, Robert; her parents, Elick and Dorothy Kleve; and her brother, Robert Kleve.

If you prefer, please consider a memorial to Trinity Lutheran Church General Fund in lieu of flowers.

Go to www.parkwayfuneral.com to share memories of Donna and to sign the online guest book.

Then we ordered food.

Thanks Gary and keep the stories and pictures coming folks!!– It is the
highlight of my morning to get the latest blog!!–
.

Gary Stokes, I would love to read your dad’s memories on the Pacific Theater.  Send me a picture in uniform and I will hang it on the wall with a thousand or so other vets here in Branson at the Radisson Hotel. In October Branson has a mega vet’s event.

LARRY JAMES DEMERY

 

 

HI All:

I just read Marlys Hiatt’s comment on the confirmation photo.  The name of the girl that was mis-identified as Marlys I BELIEVE is Sharon Hanson (Hansen???).  Not Sharon Eurich Hanson….another Sharon Hanson.  And I don’t remember anything about her, who her parents were or why she was in Dunseith, so maybe someone else out there actually has some working memory cells and can chime in!  And as long as that photo is there….I’m sure this was said before – ours was the biggest confirmation class EVER at Peace Lutheran.  Mostly because we’d been minus a pastor for awhile, I believe, so there’d been no confirmation classes for a year or whatever.  So there were two ages of kids combined – eventually the HS graduating classes of 1970 & 1971.  Pastor Rotto always joked that the one kid he couldn’t ‘rope in’ for confirmation was David Tooke!

Paula I. Fassett

Gary

I had to add another paragraph to the SON-OF-A-WHO story.  I happened to think of it after sending it off to you, and of course its another way to get everyone to read the story again. 

I also want to thank everyone for their responses that I received directly and on the blog for this story and for other stories that I have submitted to the blog in the past.  I won’t lie, your kind responses pump up my ego and make my day.  Thank You, TO ALL OF YOU, for your kind words about my submittals to the blog and Thank You Gary for all the work you do.  It is appreciated by all of us. 

Thank You,

Larry

.

SON-OF-A-WHO

The Who, in this story are not from Whoville.  So feel free to substitute any word that comes to your mind while reading this story about the who?

It happened right after that accident.  That accident, that happened, right after swimming until dark at School Section Lake.  We left the lake in my brothers black and white 1953 Mercury.  Henry age 16, was driving, Marvin Kalk age 15, sitting in the middle and I age 15, on the passenger side.  We headed north away from the lake, on the section line road toward Highway 43.  I don’t know if it was because Henry was tired after working all day at the service station, or because we were goofing off, or if the brush obscured the stop sign.  Anyway, we missed the stop sign.  There was a huge crash, lights flashing as I saw this car spinning around in the middle of the road and then I was flying.  I knew I was flying because the blades of grass were whipping against my face as I flew through the air.  It seemed like an eternity to me.  When was I going to stop, what was going to happen when I did stop?  Then I did stop.  I landed on something soft.  I was alright, I didn’t feel any pain, and the soft landing was on a human body, but whose human body.  Was the body alive or was it dead.  It was so dark I couldn’t see and I was afraid to say anything or to even move.  Then all of a sudden, a voice, a recognizable voice, “GET OFF ME YOU SON-OF-A-Who”.  Relief, it was Marvin, and you could tell from the voice, that it was Marvin and Marvin was OK.

 Relieved as him and I scrambled back to the car sitting up on the approach to the west of us, to see if Henry was alright. Relieved he was alright.  He complained of his left leg hurting, but he was OK.  Henry was unable to get out the driver’s door, due to the amount of damage to that side of the car.  He had to slide over and get out of the vehicle through the passenger door.  We rushed around the Mercury to the black car sitting in the middle of the road, to see if whoever was in the vehicle was alright.  A young tall fellow got out and said that he was fine.  We pushed his car off the road onto the approach, adjacent the Mercury. 

The Ross Brennen family that lived near the intersection heard the crash and all came out to see what had happened.  They standing at the fence, at the edge of the ditch, that Marvin and I flew into, asked if everyone was OK.  Henry and the other driver talked to Ross about reporting the accident.  Ross had no phone so it was agreed, that we would make our way to Kelvin Store to report the accident and the young driver would go to his home and call the authorities from there.  We walked off to the west on highway 43, to our Uncle Gus’s farm and the young driver walked off to the east on highway 43, both parties disappearing into the night. 

Uncle Gus, who lived a mile west of the crash site agreed to give us a ride to Kelvin as soon as he and Uncle Bill were done milking the cows. We planned to call the authorities from Kelvin Store when we got there, as Uncle Gus had no phone.  It was almost midnight when we arrived at the store.  Cousin, Duane Handeland who was working at the store told us that the accident had already been reported, and the sheriff had already been to the accident sight.  Apparently that all took place while we were waiting for Uncle Gus to finish milking.  Duane got off work at midnight.

We all piled into Duane’s car and he took us back to the crash site.  The black car was gone and Henry’s car had an accident sticker on the windshield.  Ross Brennen came out and said the sheriff had been there and told him that one car had no license plate and shouldn’t have been on the road anyway, and one had run a stop sign and that the accident was a wash.  Both drivers were to take care of their own damages.  We pushed Henry’s car back onto highway 43 and then Duane used his car to push it to Uncle Gus’s farm, where we left it parked for the night.  Duane then gave us three a ride back to Dunseith and home.  Thanks Duane!

Yes, Marvin and I flew about 25 feet out of that car.  No seat belts back in them days.  Marvin was sitting in the middle and my guess is that he had to fly out through the door window, and then the door must have opened and I flew out too, landing on top of him.  Hence, my soft landing, and him, calling me a “Son-OF-A- Who”.  Whenever it was brought up.  I always let him know that it was good of him, to provide me with a cushion.  His come back was always the same; I was always a Son-Of-A-Who.

Why was I called a “Son-Of-A-Who”?  I was working out on the prairie this one summer on my other Uncle Bill’s farm.  I was in the field operating an 820 John Deere, pulling a cultivator, cultivating a 40 acre field. I saw my brothers 56 Ford pull up to the edge of the field and stop.  I made my way over to them with the tractor and stopped to see what was happening.  They were on their way to the outdoor movie in Rugby and wanted to know if I wanted to go with them.  I replied, sure, but I wanted to finish the field first as I had only a couple more rounds to make and then I could take the tractor and cultivator back to the farm.  They agreed to wait for me, and both Henry and Marvin climbed onto the 820 John Deere.  I loved operating that tractor.  It was a smooth running, powerful machine.

Henry and Marvin, one on each side of me, each of them hanging onto a fender, as I turned the gray looking dirt black with the cultivator, from one end of the field to the other end.  I was anxious to get done, and so I put the John Deere in 5^th gear and opened the throttle.  In no time we completed cultivating the field and headed back to where Henry parked the car.  We were traveling wide open in 5^th with the cultivator in the ground.  When we got next to the car, I pulled the hand clutch back and the tractor stopped dead.  Marvin went flying down on the ground in front of the back wheel of the tractor.  He was lucky that I stopped that short, and I told him so. He got up dusting the field from his clothes and complaining, calling me a “Son-Of-A-Who”.

It happened one Sunday evening when everyone was kind of sitting around, relaxing watching TV in the living room.  I was sitting off to one side on a dining room chair clipping my toe nails.  I was trying to capture them as I clipped them with the other hand.  I was doing a purity good job when one of the nails off the big toe went flying.  I looked around where I was sitting but I couldn’t see it anywhere.  You know how they sometimes just disappear.  I figured I would find it later when I finished clipping the rest of my toes.  I finished clipping and went and put my nails in the garbage.  I know, I hate seeing nails lay around too, especially somebody else’s nails.  It just seems to be so damn uncouth to me,  doesn’t it to you also?  Well, I got back to my chair and started looking all over for that big toe nail.  I couldn’t find it anywhere. I was about ready to give up on finding the nail, when I happened to glance over toward Marvin lying on the floor watching TV.  He was picking his teeth with something.  I couldn’t tell what it was from where I was standing.  I asked Marvin, what are you using to pick your teeth?  Marvin took his hand away from his mouth and looked, exclaiming you “Son-Of-A- Who” and threw my toe nail at me.  Marvin Kalk if he wasn’t at the Dunseith Bakery working, he was at my house.  He was almost, or what you would consider a foster child of my folks.  He did go home to sleep.   

This happened one night after attending a movie in Bottineau.  We were on our way home, back to Dunseith.  Henry was driving, Marvin was in the back seat, and I was sitting on the passenger side of the front seat of Henry’s red and white 1956 Ford.  Marvin for some reason and maybe no reason kept putting his feet up on back of the front seat between Henry and me.  I told him to quit doing that.  He would take his feet down but it wasn’t long before he had his feet up there again.  I warned him again to take his feet down from the back of the seat, or I was going to throw his shoes out the window.  He took his feet down again but it wasn’t long before they were both up there again.  I grabbed both his shoes and threw them out the window.  The first thing out of Marvin’s mouth was you “Son-Of-A-Who”.  I was surprised, even my brother Henry got a little upset with me.  He said, “Now we have to go back and find his damn shoes”.  I said to hell with his damn shoes.  Marvin said, “You Son-Of-A-Who, that’s the only pair I have”.  Henry circled into the ditch and we slowly back tracked in the ditch looking for Marvin’s shoes.  Henry and Marvin both complaining.  Henry because he was tired and would have to go to work the next day and Marvin because of his damn shoes.  Never mind the lesson I was trying to teach the guy.  I also explained to Henry, that I didn’t really throw them, that I kind of just set them out the window.  And wouldn’t you know it when we pulled back onto the highway and started driving back east on the right shoulder there sat Marvin’s shoes side by side like he just walked out of them.  I tried to explain to them that I had a plan and it worked out to perfection.  I don’t know why, but all the way back to Dunseith, I was a Son-Of-A-Who.  Who would have thought that I could be a who?  I always thought that I was more of a Grinch.   However, it still makes me laugh today when I think of Marvin (Marvin who is no longer with us), a spitting and a sputtering, and calling me a Son-Of-A-Who.

Another incident that happened, took place while working at Robert’s Service Station.  The Catholic nuns pulled up to the gas pumps to have their car refueled and the fluid levels under the hood checked. While this was happening Sister Rose came into the station and was wandering around looking at items on display.  She stopped when she came to the post card rack.  On that rack were some cards with photos of the North Dakota landscapes, Marilyn Monroe and some that were comical.  Sister Rose spotted this one card where the cowboy rode his horse off a cliff, with the cowboy shouting as he on his horse was descending “WHOAA YOU  S.O.B.  WHOAA”.  Sister Rose read that card aloud in her soft, sweet voice and said “whoaa you sob whoaa” and I swear “well, not swear” that she wiped a tear from her eye.

I loved all those Catholic Sisters, but Sister Augustine was always my favorite.  I could never remember her name.  So I would always call her Hey.  She would always reply by telling me to save it as I might need it on my farm and that grass is free.  We did have a good time teasing each other about whether the grass and hay, was for a horse, or for a cow, or for a sheep, or for all three.

Remember to laugh, as the world will laugh with you.

Larry

Very nice name plate Dale.

SON-OF-A-WHO

The Who, in this story are not from Whoville.  So feel free to substitute any word that comes to your mind while reading this story about the who?

It happened right after that accident.  That accident, that happened, right after swimming until dark at School Section Lake.  We left the lake in my brothers black and white 1953 Mercury.  Henry age 16, was driving, Marvin Kalk age 15, sitting in the middle and I age 15, on the passenger side.  We headed north away from the lake, on the section line road toward Highway 43.  I don’t know if it was because Henry was tired after working all day at the service station, or because we were goofing off, or if the brush obscured the stop sign.  Anyway, we missed the stop sign.  There was a huge crash, lights flashing as I saw this car spinning around in the middle of the road and then I was flying.  I knew I was flying because the blades of grass were whipping against my face as I flew through the air.  It seemed like an eternity to me.  When was I going to stop, what was going to happen when I did stop?  Then I did stop.  I landed on something soft.  I was alright, I didn’t feel any pain, and the soft landing was on a human body, but whose human body.  Was the body alive or was it dead.  It was so dark I couldn’t see and I was afraid to say anything or to even move.  Then all of a sudden, a voice, a recognizable voice, “GET OFF ME YOU SON-OF-A-Who”.  Relief, it was Marvin, and you could tell from the voice, that it was Marvin and Marvin was OK.

 Relieved as him and I scrambled back to the car sitting up on the approach to the west of us, to see if Henry was alright. Relieved he was alright.  He complained of his left leg hurting, but he was OK.  Henry was unable to get out the driver’s door, due to the amount of damage to that side of the car.  He had to slide over and get out of the vehicle through the passenger door.  We rushed around the Mercury to the black car sitting in the middle of the road, to see if whoever was in the vehicle was alright.  A young tall fellow got out and said that he was fine.  We pushed his car off the road onto the approach, adjacent the Mercury. 

The Ross Brennen family that lived near the intersection heard the crash and all came out to see what had happened.  They standing at the fence, at the edge of the ditch, that Marvin and I flew into, asked if everyone was OK.  Henry and the other driver talked to Ross about reporting the accident.  Ross had no phone so it was agreed, that we would make our way to Kelvin Store to report the accident and the young driver would go to his home and call the authorities from there.  We walked off to the west on highway 43, to our Uncle Gus’s farm and the young driver walked off to the east on highway 43, both parties disappearing into the night. 

Uncle Gus, who lived a mile west of the crash site agreed to give us a ride to Kelvin as soon as he and Uncle Bill were done milking the cows. We planned to call the authorities from Kelvin Store when we got there, as Uncle Gus had no phone.  It was almost midnight when we arrived at the store.  Cousin, Duane Handeland who was working at the store told us that the accident had already been reported, and the sheriff had already been to the accident sight.  Apparently that all took place while we were waiting for Uncle Gus to finish milking.  Duane got off work at midnight.

We all piled into Duane’s car and he took us back to the crash site.  The black car was gone and Henry’s car had an accident sticker on the windshield.  Ross Brennen came out and said the sheriff had been there and told him that one car had no license plate and shouldn’t have been on the road anyway, and one had run a stop sign and that the accident was a wash.  Both drivers were to take care of their own damages.  We pushed Henry’s car back onto highway 43 and then Duane used his car to push it to Uncle Gus’s farm, where we left it parked for the night.  Duane then gave us three a ride back to Dunseith and home.  Thanks Duane!

Yes, Marvin and I flew about 25 feet out of that car.  No seat belts back in them days.  Marvin was sitting in the middle and my guess is that he had to fly out through the door window, and then the door must have opened and I flew out too, landing on top of him.  Hence, my soft landing, and him, calling me a “Son-OF-A- Who”.  Whenever it was brought up.  I always let him know that it was good of him, to provide me with a cushion.  His come back was always the same; I was always a son-of-a-who.

Why was I called a “son-of-a-who”?  I was working out on the prairie this one summer on my other Uncle Bill’s farm.  I was in the field operating an 820 John Deere, pulling a cultivator, cultivating a 40 acre field. I saw my brothers 56 Ford pull up to the edge of the field and stop.  I made my way over to them with the tractor and stopped to see what was happening.  They were on their way to the outdoor movie in Rugby and wanted to know if I wanted to go with them.  I replied, sure, but I wanted to finish the field first as I had only a couple more rounds to make and then I could take the tractor and cultivator back to the farm.  They agreed to wait for me, and both Henry and Marvin climbed onto the tractor.

Henry and Marvin, one on each side of me, each of them hanging onto a fender, as I turned the gray looking dirt black with the cultivator, from one end of the field to the other end.  I was anxious to get done, and so I put the John Deere in 5^th gear and opened the throttle.  In no time we completed cultivating the field and headed back to where Henry parked the car.  We were traveling wide open in 5^th with the cultivator in the ground.  When we got next to the car, I pulled the hand clutch back and the tractor stopped dead.  Marvin went flying down on the ground in front of the back wheel of the tractor.  He was lucky that I stopped that short, and I told him so. He got up dusting the field from his clothes and complaining, calling me a “Son-of-a-who”.

This happened one night after attending a movie in Bottineau.  We were on our way home, back to Dunseith.  Henry was driving, Marvin was in the back seat, and I was sitting on the passenger side of the front seat of Henry’s red and white 1956 Ford.  Marvin for some reason and maybe no reason kept putting his feet up on back of the front seat between Henry and me.  I told him to quit doing that.  He would take his feet down but it wasn’t long before he had his feet up there again.  I warned him again to take his feet down from the back of the seat, or I was going to throw his shoes out the window.  He took his feet down again but it wasn’t long before they were both up there again.  I grabbed both his shoes and threw them out the window.  The first thing out of his mouth was you “son-of-a-who”.  I was surprised, even my brother Henry got a little upset with me.  He said, “Now we have to go back and find his damn shoes”.  I said to hell with his damn shoes.  Marvin said, “You son-of-a-who that’s the only pair I have”.  Henry circled into the ditch and we slowly back tracked in the ditch looking for Marvin’s shoes.  Henry and Marvin both complaining.  Henry because he was tired and would have to go to work the next day and Marvin because of his damn shoes.  Never mind the lesson I was trying to teach the guy.  I also explained to Henry, that I didn’t really throw them, that I kind of just set them out the window.  And wouldn’t you know it when we pulled back onto the highway and started driving back east on the right shoulder there sat Marvin’s shoes side by side like he just walked out of them.  I tried to explain to them that I had a plan and it worked out just fine.  I don’t know why, but all the way back to Dunseith, I was a son-of-a-who.  Who would have thought that I could be a who?  I always thought that I was more of a Grinch.   However, it still makes me laugh today when I think of Marvin (Marvin who is no longer with us), a spitting and a sputtering, and calling me a son-of-a-who.

Another incident that happened took place while working at Robert’s Service Station.  The Catholic nuns pulled up to the gas pumps to have their car refueled and the fluid levels under the hood checked. While this was happening Sister Rose came into the station and was wandering around looking at items on display.  She stopped when she came to the post card rack.  On that rack were some cards with photos of the North Dakota landscapes, Marilyn Monroe and some that were comical.  Sister Rose spotted this one card where the cowboy rode his horse off a cliff, with the cowboy shouting as he on his horse were descending “WHOAA YOU  S.O.B.  WHOAA”.  Sister Rose read that card aloud in her soft, sweet voice and said “whoaa you sob whoaa” and I swear “well, not swear” that she wiped a tear from her eye.

I loved all those Catholic Sisters, but Sister Augustine was always my favorite.  I could never remember her name.  So I would always call her Hey.  She would always reply by telling me to save it as I might need it on my farm and that grass is free.  We did have a good time teasing each other about whether the grass and hay, was for a horse, or for a cow, or for a sheep, or for all three.

Remember to laugh, as the world will laugh with you.

Larry