Ready for the Prom?

My brother and I have been revisiting old pictures and gathering stories from our Dad and have  put together a couple different slideshows to tell the family story.  If the kids ever have any interest it will be there for them.

This is a photo I never saw or knew about until sometime last week.  Those who know my Dad will recognize him in his foxy straw hat and double-breasted suit, smoking the heater, and my mother is sitting in the passenger seat.  In a real convenience, the car door clearly swings wide open.  Dad's brother Kermit is standing to the right and Mom's sister Idena is on the left.

Just for a little geographic identification, we're sure the photo was taken at what Mom called "the Old Bisbee Place", where her family lived when they returned from North Dakota.  There's a story about the property in Iowa and in North Dakota, but it goes beyond the bounds of this post. Anyway, the road that you see over Kermit's left shoulder we are pretty certain is the Iowa/Minnesota State Line.

The Bisbee place is about 5 miles East of the Deer Creek Valley Lutheran Church.  Dad's maternal grandparents had a farm on the Minnesota side just across the road from Bisbee's, and he grew up on a Minnesota farm about 3 miles west of Bisbee's.  Dad met Mom at the DCV Church, worked at the Deer Creek creamery for a while after they married, and farmed just west of Deer Creek, mid-point between Deer Creek and the Minnesota farm that my great grandfather homesteaded in 1870.  When I was born in 1944 our family of five lived on "the Old Radloff Place" mid-point between my two grandfathers.  And all these points were on the State Line.

The history we've been collecting and the mapping we have done have rung my bell following my post recently about the transitions from child to parent, from those days to these.  Both sides of my family were friends back then, as this picture shows, because they lived so close together, attended the same church or school, dated each other's siblings, and so on.  The likelihood of that happening today is slim or none, with farms being sized at 700 acres and up, schools becoming county-wide and social life taking on a different turn as well.

There were 16 siblings between those two families, creating many fond memories for me at an average of four children per sibling.  I have flashbacks of a sort now that I have grandchildren in two families and they scream with excitement when the last family arrives for a family event.

Dad still has pretty good recollection on most of these things but I have yet to get the story behind this picture.  It almost looks like they're going to the Prom, although Mom and Dad had to be in their early 20s on this shot.  And she and Idena are not wearing flowers either.

Here's a real aside in this story, recalled because of that lack of a corsage . . .  For all those dances we attended in high school, when it was imperative that you buy a corsage for your date, every guy was concerned about the inappropriate placement of the corsage, because you didn't want to crush the corsage on a slow dance, but you wanted to dance close.  Remember? So the "arm corsage" became an option.

One classmate, whose name shall not be shared here, needed to buy a corsage with a Gardenia flower, perhaps because it was her favorite flower, I don't really recall.  When he picked it up at the nursery he was very taken aback because the corsage was so - o - o - o - o long!  He just knew it would cover her entire arm, and he was flustered as to whether he should give it to her.  Being the fine fellow that he was he could not refuse to pay for it, so there he was, corsage in hand - his hand - and all akilter over the right thing to do.

He wound up giving it to her and indeed it covered her arm, looking as much like a shield as a corsage.  But it was OK because that relationship came to an end, and life moved on.  It's just kind of hard to think that my Mom and Dad, or yours, may have had any of the same awkward situations.  They were just always seemingly above those things, or so we'd like to think.

Childhood Diseases

I clearly recall the commitment of my parents, especially my mother, to my getting fully vaccinated against a variety of diseases. Today's concern for Shingles amongst seniors should not be surprising since it's caused by the same virus to generate chicken pox, the source of the faint scar between my eyebrows.  So the virus is still in my body.

Seniors don't object to lining up for this new vaccine, having been indoctrinated by their parents as to the necessity of doing so.  Get in line and git 'er done.

Jonas Salk was quite the hero in 1952 when he developed the vaccine used against Polio.  The stories of the iron lung, the youngsters our age who walked on crutches or staggered along, or even the death of the infected caused great concern among parents.  Perhaps you, too, lined up in Mason City for the original injected dosage followed a couple years later by the oral vaccine.

That is the disease that rings the bell most loudly for our age, but our parents most likely could list many others that swept across the country wreaking havoc during their youth.  Although our parents would not likely have first-hand experience from the pandemic flu that killed close to a million people in 1917-18 they certainly heard about it from their own parents - if those parents survived.

Whole tribes of Native Americans disappeared when confronted with measles or other viruses for which they had not developed any natural immunity - or awareness.

It's a simple methodology: you learn from those affected and then carry the message forward.  All our mothers, all our parents, were attuned to the variety of scourges that could affect us and chose to protect us.  Many bore injection scars on the arm reflecting their having received the shot in a primitive process, but no one bore any shame from that scar.

We heard it from the parents, passed it on to our children albeit with less passion than we had heard, I suppose, and they to their own children, even less passionately.  You do not fear what you do not know/have not experienced directly.  And thus we are finding more and more parents putting their children and others at risk by opting out from the vaccination requirements.  They are mostly white women, well educated, Master's degree or higher, heavily oriented towards homeschooling and organic living.

As if it's a communist plot or something to listen to the medical community as to the risks and impact.  They fear autism.  A fear based on . . .  perhaps an actress espousing her beliefs on an afternoon TV show?  Think risk/reward: a few cases of autism or an entire generation wiped out by disease.  What do you choose?

We've been there.  Now it's up to us to sound the alarms.

Does Your Mother's Voice Ever Go Away?

I was attending a company meeting in Denver a few years ago, and on our last day there the agenda was a casual breakfast, a Super Shuttle to the airport, and a flight home.  Breakfast was buffet-style with a variety of goodies including scrambled eggs, bacon, cereal, granola, yogurt, fruit, all the good stuff.

With a plate full of these options, I was sitting next to the President, Tom, Senior, enjoying the food and the conversation, when I realized I had committed my typical buffet sin of taking more than I could eat, and I mumbled something about having taken too much.  In his typical wry fashion, Senior said, "Your mother isn't here.  You don't have to eat it all."

Senior's success stemmed from his ability to slice a dilemma, put a finger on the sore spot, and know that your mother's voice is all too often singing in the back of your head.  She probably told you, on more than one occasion:

• Hang up your clothes.
• Eat your supper.
• Clean your plate.
• Make your bed.
• Eat what I gave you.
• Because she's your sister.  (Or brother, I suppose.)
• Because I said so.
• That's just the way we're going to do it.
• Pull it by the roots!
• You didn't finish yet.
• Wipe your feet.
• You don't need that.
• Be nice.
• . . . and countless other warnings and advisories.

Many of us have lost our mothers, but the voice in the head, the perpetual conscience, will always be there.  That may be a good thing, even though as adults we should be fully self-guided.  But occasionally I think back to some of the situations I was in 50 years ago and the decisions I made, and hear myself thinking, "Gees, I wish I wouldn't have done that."  I know my mother would have prevented those bad moves had she been standing there.

I don't think her voice will ever go away, and this post is testament to that, I suppose.  So I had a light breakfast this morning, and ate everything.  Just like she would expect.

Children of the Greatest Generation

I ran into Chuck and Janis (Jones) Hendrickson at the Memorial Day services in Northwood.  Chuck is recovering well from his illness and is looking very healthy.  He and Janis were all smiles during the day.  The next day Janis responded to an email about the service and happened to mention her Dad, Charlie, having served in WW II.  I had just heard that he had been a POW, so I asked Janis to confirm that, which she did.

Correct. Dad was in the National Guard. He was captured by the Germans in North Africa and was a POW in Poland for 27 months. He wrote a book of his war experiences in the late 80’s. My brother went to Poland and retraced Dad’s steps, seeing where he was actually imprisoned. How I would have loved to have gone with him!! Before Dad’s health began to decline he did lots of public speaking on his experiences and especially enjoyed being invited to tell his story to high school history classes.


I’m in the process of reading 4 years of letters back and forth between my dad and mom…and my dad and his parents – all of them during the war. Spellbinding. My dad was a gifted writer – they read like a novel.

Charlie owned the theater in Northwood for a number of years and may have been best known for his work as a public address announcer and emcee, for the church league softball in what is now Swensrud Park, and at high school football games.  I asked Janis if she could share some of his story with us, and she submitted the following.

My father, Charlie Jones, was a member of the 34th Red Bull Division of the U.S. Army and its 168th infantry in WWII. He was fighting the Germans in North Africa, when he, along with many other members of the nearly decimated 168th, was forced to surrender on Feb. 17. 1943. He became a Prisoner of War for 27 months. He was liberated on May 21, 1945 and was honorably discharged as Captain in February 1946. 

Official POW photo and snapshot on a Memorial Day mid-90s
at Sunset Rest Cemetery - original Army uniform

Dad was interned most of his time at Oflag 64, famous for holding General Patton’s son-in-law, John K. Waters. It was a small camp at Schubin, Poland. On capture there were only about 150 American officers in the 10-acre compound. By the time Oflag 64 was evacuated in January 1945, the roll call had reached 1,400. 

Dad was engaged to my mother during his imprisonment. Letters back and forth between the two of them were heartfelt and were lifelines for them both, especially my father. Our family recently came across these spellbinding letters which read like a novel.

The Red Cross and the YMCA were paramount in the well-being of the POWs. Through these two organizations, the prisoners were furnished reading material, musical instruments and sheet music, as well as food care packages to supplement the watered-down soup and stale bread provided by the Germans.

The prisoners amazingly organized their camp, setting up areas of administration, recreation and education, training and supply sections. Dad first served as company clerk, then was later moved to be in charge of phonograph music. He kept himself busy with the activities made available: a library, a theatre of sorts, lectures, recitals, plays, concerts and many types of school classes on almost any subject imaginable. Dad kept a log of all the books he read during his captivity and, if memory serves me correctly, it was around 1,000. He loved the classics of literature, philosophy, and religion but found the most peace in books of poetry.

The POWs could make most anything out of nothing. Our family had many mementoes Dad made including a toothbrush implemented from wood attached to many threads (better at mopping the teeth than actually brushing), and eating utensils he had whittled out of a few pieces of scrap wood. There was also a hand-woven coin purse he’d made from threads he’d acquired from scrap fabric with a closure button made from a prune pit in which he’d carved the letter “M” for Myrtle, my mother. His hands were busy for many months embroidering a large tablecloth my mother sent to him, which later graced our family dining table for every holiday. Many items have been donated to the Iowa Gold Star Military Museum in Johnston, Iowa.

While imprisoned, Dad was a member of a 17 man chorus. We’ve heard their actual recordings attained through the archives, and were thrilled to hear Dad’s name announced as a Bass member of the group. He also participated in many stage plays during his time at the camp.

My father kept a diary…Following are several excerpts:

December 31, 1944: As the year closes, I can look back and be thankful for many things. Health has stayed about fair level. I haven’t been too cold, having managed to keep from being too hungry, have had food from home and comparatively frequent assurance from home that my loved ones are well and still waiting for me and loving me. May God continue to bless Myrtle, Mom and Dad and family. And may I be worthy of continued blessings as much as the past. With hope and prayer for the future, it’s good bye to 1944.

The following entry was written after the Germans had marched the POWs over a period of months in the bitter winter weather to new locations to avoid the Russians, who were approaching and trying to liberate the POWs.

March 7, 1945 Been getting gradually weaker on a diet of bread and pea soup and ersatz tea. Sleeping on a handful of wet straw on 8 bed boards. Too cold to take off any clothes so I’ve had mine on since January 20th, save for one de-lousing. Skinny and weak as a cat.

Why was my father a survivor? First of all, he was an officer. He was not forced to work long hours on the Germans’ behalf. Second, the luck of the draw took him to camps with generally more humane leadership from the Germans than existed in other camps. In addition, he kept himself as busy as possible in the activities the camp had to offer, as well as his own handiwork, embroidery, etc. His values and growing religious beliefs were also clearly a factor. But above all else, Dad had something that kept him focused on the future: the woman he loved, her letters and pictures, and his faith that she would be there for him when he arrived home. And she was. The long wait was over. They were married 3 weeks after he arrived home on American soil, granting them 54 years together. Dad passed away September 10, 1999 at the age of 86.

Unlike many WWII veterans who chose not to discuss their time at war, my dad was always very verbal to his children about his experiences. I remember sobbing one evening when Dad sat all 5 of his children down to talk about what life was like for him as a POW. I couldn’t bear the fact that my father had endured such hardship. That was a child’s reaction. As an adult, I am thankful he was a POW in a fairly humane camp, and was not one of those many of our fallen heroes who gave the ultimate sacrifice.

Dad constructed a mock-up of his camp which he took with him on his many lectures to area high school history classes over the years. I think he knew that the story must be told…that the world must not forget the atrocities war brings about. I’m very proud and thankful my father felt inclined to pass on such an important piece of his, and America’s, history. Mostly, I’m so glad he survived! He was a hero in my eyes!

Submitted by:

Janis (Jones) Hendrickson

What Are Mothers For?

This photo was one in a series of those emails about remembering the 50s and 60s, and although it is designed as a generic, it does conjure up some memories of the role of the woman in those days.  If she wasn't working the cash register as pictured, she was probably doing the family grocery shopping.  Few indeed were lawyers or high-level executives.

Primarily she was still the homemaker, although many worked out of the home, perhaps moreso by necessity as a single mother, or a farmer's wife who worked "out of the home" without leaving the farm.  Working mothers of classmates outside of those two examples were probably the exception and not the rule, although the days of Rosie the Riveter had a huge impact, and the value of a second income became apparent.  Men who were ever the chauvinists may or may not have welcomed that progress.

In spite of the work schedules of women, meals were still consumed as a family unit because the multiple options offered by the school district had yet to shape family lives.  Without girls sports, and only one boys sport per season, time was manageable.

Consider today's family with the youngsters going in 40 different directions for so many potential activities. Next year's NKHS football team will be aligned in an 8-man league with most opponents 90 miles away in the Cedar Falls-Waterloo area.  That, of course, is minor compared to the travel required in states like North Dakota.

Jackson Brunsvold, AHS

The seniors of '62 had one sport: boys basketball.  Here in Wisconsin families today split their time between boys and girls basketball, boys and girls hockey, wrestling, cross-country skiing for boys and girls, Alpine skiing, Alpine snowboarding (read more below), and probably others that we've missed.  Hockey in particular is quite an expensive sport often requiring hours committed to fundraising, weekend events, and widespread travel.

Today's mother is probably busy working to help to fund the travel they undergo.  And dinner as a family?  Forget it.  Not that either scenario is "right" or "wrong," make your own judgment and acknowledge . . . things have changed.

A note about the photo inserted:  meet Jack Brunsvold, a nephew of our own Richard Brunsvold and his sister Chris Brunsvold Hoigard ('65), and grandson of Ann Sandberg Johnson, NHS '57.  A resident of Ashland, WI, on Lake Superior, he is the 2012 Wisconsin High School Snowboard Boardercross Champion, winning the event on Saturday, February 18.  His event took him all of 22.56 seconds!  His proud grandmother passes this along.

The Jefferson Highway Garage in Kensett

Photo Courtesy of L M Forland Family

Photo Courtesy of L M Forland Family

These photos are taken at the Jefferson Highway Garage in Kensett, established about the same time Highway 65 was built to run the north-south length of Iowa.  The Top photo was taken facing north and the other was facing south.  Here is the story behind the photos as told by Stan Arendts:

That is a picture of my grandfather, "Doc" Arendts. My father and grandfather were partners after WW2. The original Jefferson Highway Garage was established in the 1920's by my grandfather and as I recall was the oldest Ford dealership in the state, at one time. Huso was a competiter in Northwood as was Pritchard in Mason City. Prichard was a friendly competitor, Huso, not so much.

When I got my drivers license, I became the "gofer" and made many trips to other dealerships in the area to get parts, etc. I was very well respected among the group due to my family's longevity in the business and history of fair dealing. The garage was named after US 65, which was originally known as the Jefferson Highway, much like US 30 was the Lincoln Highway.

I could add that the building blew up twice, both caused by natural gas leaks. After the first time, the gas company added "aroma" to the odorless natural gas, to assist in recognizing leaks. The first explosion injured Johnnie Olsen, a Northwood resident, who was a mechanic. It occurred during the day and was caused by Johnnie lighting a cigarette.

The building was rebuilt and business continued. The second time was after my father sold the building to a Mason City hot-rodder, who used it as storage and a place to work on his cars. The second explosion happened at night and no one was injured. As far as I know, the building was not rebuilt. Maybe he didn't have insurance?

I have a lot of fond memories about that place. Spent a lot of time there and created many projects.........a wooden car, go-carts, tandem bicycles, flagpoles, hot rods, bazookas, sleds, etc.

Stan's memories are hopefully being shared with his offspring, totally unedited as he would demand.

The name "Jefferson Highway" may be unknown to many outside of Kensett, but the story is told in this History of the Interstate Trail provided by the Iowa DOT.  A different photo is included in the DOT report, of the Iowa/Minnesota marker commemorating the completion of the highway in both states in 1930, sitting along Hwy 65.  I have passed the marker and noticed it hundreds of times and never knew what it was.

The cigarette explosion reminds of a story told probably by Don Faris or possibly Maynard Midtgaard, of a service station worker who for years threw his cigarette butts into a pail of used oil, with nary a problem . . . until one very warm day when the oil was warm enough to combust.  The lesson, of course, explained the ingredients required to cause fire.  (Why in the world do we remember such trivia as a story like this?)

The World We Were Born Into

Stan Arendts has forwarded this video of spontaneous celebrations on Hawaii on VJ Day, August 14, 1945.  With music by Jimmy Durante the perfect background, you get a strong sense of the joy concluding the "Big One," fought by the Greatest Generation.

It was the beginning of our time.  Eisenhower and Churchill were heroes.  The world was right, we fought real wars against clearly defined enemies wearing clearly marked clothing, and enjoyed clearly defined victory.  This is the world we were born into.  Ambiguity and confusion would have to wait 30 or 40 years.

For the website with more background information on this amazing video, go to contributor Richard Sullivan's website.  The movie is an edited version of the 16mm Kodachrome film shot by his father, and it is marvelously well done.  Thanks to Stan for forwarding.

Be sure to click the "full screen" icon next to the word "vimeo" in the control box.

An Ode to Parents

1935 Northwood High School Football Team

Arleigh Holstad - 1935

Richard Holstad has written fondly of his memories of his dad, and lessons learned or passed along by him. In the photo above, Dad Arleigh is in the middle row, far left.  Click on the photo for a larger view, and if you look closely you will see a bandage over his left eye.  


His official game photo is on the left, and Richard speaks with pride of  Arleigh's athletic experience.  He even has Arleigh's old practice jersey, "tattered, faded and worn as it is."  Perhaps we all have memories of valuable lessons learned, like those Arleigh passed along: Every game is a lesson in life, and when the buzzer goes off, the game is over, with no chance for a replay, or second or third chance.  It's not about winning or losing, it's about playing the game.  It's a team sport, and though you may let your team down, or your team may let you down on occasion, there's no feeling to compare when the team comes through all at the same time, as a team.

Richard says he learned how to lose before learning how to win, and it's much more fun to talk about the wins...  As we all would agree.  Perhaps being a part of that 61-62 basketball team may have been extraordinarily rewarding, but for some of us with limited skill set such that the ball has a tendency to "clank" off the backboard as it would if a brick were thrown up, could only participate vicariously - from the bleachers.

In any event, how much guidance did we actually receive from parents?  And how much was ignored?  Richard has clearly taken Arleigh's advice to heart.  If you have thoughts on the life experiences gained from your parents, mom or dad, pass them along.  This could be a whole new avenue to stroll.

Few of our era are likely to say there was never any advice or suggest there was no direct supervision.  More likely we may hear:

• They always knew what I was doing.
• They really kept me on a tight leash.  (And you deserved it?)
• They didn't say so, but I could tell they were proud.
• Rarely did they come to my defense in a dispute with a teacher; if they did, they may well have been incorrect in their decision.  But I wouldn't object, of course.
• Right or wrong, they didn't want me to be like so-and-so.
• They didn't tell me what to do in life - they thought I should figure it out myself.

Share your thoughts.  This could be fun.

Old News from the Anchor

Miss Mantz - correcting papers, as typical.

January 14, 1987 - two teachers at Northwood-Kensett schools have resigned effective at the end of the current school year.  Eileen Mantz, who teachers computer science and mathematics, and Diane Groon, who teaches German and English, have resigned their contracts.  Both resignations were accepted by the board of education. 

An obituary  for Eileen Mantz was published in the Northwood Anchor in 2001.


January 11, 1962 - patrons of the Carpenter Consolidated School district favor reorganization with the St Ansgar - Grafton District, according to a recent ballot.  Out of 270 ballots mailed, some 196 ballots were returned and St Ansgar had 104 votes and Northwood-Kensett, 92, for a small margin of victory for St Ansgar.  

Beginning of the end for the NK School District?

January 14, 1937 - Moving his office equipment to Britt by truck early this week, Dr. C. T. Bergen has taken up his active practice t that city with Dr. B. F. Denny, old established physician and surgeon of Britt, with whom he has formed a partnership.  Dr. Bergen was located in Northwood over three years.  

The blogmaster will need confirmation from someone that this is the same Dr. Bergen whose daughter Ann graduated with the class of '62, apparently after a move back to Northwood.  According to class history, Ann became a classmate in fifth grade.

Musician, Jeweler, Businessman, Promoter

The newspaper clipping on the left was marked as being published in 1955, celebrating the clock that was built by L T Dillon, he of the 1936 Band Concert.  Notice the archway on the left  indicating the entrance to the old Northwood Bank Building, and Mack Drug was somewhere in this vicinity.

Richard Holstad has pointed out that the clock was moved to the south side of the street where it still stands today, photo below.

Bonnie Mack Wopperer ('60) gave a great more detail about Dillon, his relationship with the Macks, and his work in the drug and jewelry store as well as his musicianship:

L.T. Dillon was a very special, influential man in his day, and his contributions to that community are almost countless. I can still see/hear him walking from the fron of the store to the back while whistling some John Phillips Sousa  song and almost marching to the beat. He loved his music. I'd go so far as to say it was the love of his life! L.T. also owned the watch/clock repair shop in the back of the drug store and employed a watch smith (isn't that what they called people experienced in clock repair?), named Bob Helgeland. Bob was a kindly man, forever a bachelor; spoke somewhat broken English and lived with and cared for his elderly, ailing mother until she passed, I think in '58 or '59. He may have been German as well. 

L.T. was the licensed pharmacist under whom my father was able to work as a druggist & dispense medications. I'm not sure how that worked............maybe LT instructed my father and my father was eventually certified or something, but he never did go to school to obtain a pharmaceutical degree. Back in those days, it was legal to do that; it certainly would not be today! Think I also told you that LT instructed me on the flute (it was actually HIS flute; on loan to me until I bought my own). I outgrew any desire to play that instrument, much to the disappointment of both L.T. and my father. I didn't want to play in the band, so I stuck with piano and organ (electric and pipe) exclusively. L.T's. flute was returned and there was never a need for me to purchase one.

Regarding L.T. Dillon's background and musical instruction.........I'm afraid I don't know anything OR I have forgotten it, if I ever did. But now that you mention it, I seem to recall someone (maybe my dad) saying that L.T. was self taught. One may be blessed with the gift to play a musical instrument or sing a song "by ear" but L.T. could read music and that doesn't just happen naturally...........but it wouldn't surprise me if he taught himself.

I'm not surprised that the Northwood School Band, under his direction, won the competition. He was a perfectionist...........a driven man........very goal oriented. He wanted the best for his students and his energy was contagious......I think they tuned in to it, if you will.

Bonnie lists herself as a "Soda Jerk" in the family store on this photo, held in the collection of Richard Holstad, who asked her to sign and date it for posterity when she confirmed that it was she behind the counter.  Click on the photo for a larger image.

Straying from the story of L T Dillon, the days of the soda fountain may be well gone, along with the fabulous syrup that Bonnie mentions. Seems there were several in town including Mack's, Connor Drug, Veenkers perhaps, and Young's Paramount Cafe. Must have been a substantial need for all things sweet!

L T Dillon - Entrepeneur

Richard Holstad keeps feeding information about L T Dillon and the 1936 National Band Contest.  The exploits have been reported previously and at some point the numerous photos along with a recording made by the St Olaf Band of the song played in contest by the NHS Band will be posted by way of YouTube.

In the meantime, take a closer look at the above photo.  Click on it to open a larger view in a new window, then look carefully at the band members themselves.  They're all cut-outs!  According to the clipping at the bottom of the photo, it was made by L T Dillon, composed of individual photos of the various members munted on a base and placed on a small stage, thus "manufactured" by Dillon because the school in 1936 did not have an auditorium - and this apparently was the closest facsimile of a performance setting that he could come up with.  (The gymnasium used by the Class of '62 was built and occupied AFTER the National Contest.)

Pretty ingenious, that fellow.  He also is the photographer for the photo below, as reported previously in this blog.  Unable to be in the picture, he made it there as an inserted image in the upper left corner.  This almost makes you laugh, except for the picture of determination and dedication that he embodied as a "part-time" instructor for a national champ.  You may not find a more entrepreneurial spirit.

The band held a reunion in 2006; what a joy it must have been for those players to get back together again!

Keep your eyes on this blog for more information and stories on this group.  Many of them would have been parents of the Class of '62 or that era.  A son of one of the members, Richard has been reaching out to others to solicit their memories and photos as well.

SCA Jr

The January 22 blog post reported one Stanton Carl Arendts was first alternate to be appointed to the Naval Academy.  Sure enough, our very own SCA is the apple who fell not far from the tree.  He confirms it was  his father referenced in the 75-Year-Old Anchor News:

USS West Virginia Burning in Pearl Harbor

Yes, My Father had almost as many sea stories as me!! He did go to the Academy (The boat school / canoe club) and graduated in time to be on the USS West Virginia when it was sunk at Pearl Harbor. Fortunately he was on shore at the time. 

His room mate was Bob Lim who went on to become the president of Philippine Air Lines after serving in the Philippine ARMY, as a general (I think). The Lim kids used to visit our family in Kensett during the summers.

While at USNA he, along with 2 other midshipmen formed a radio station and played music for the academy. When they graduated, they flipped for the records and my father won, ending up with hundreds of the old 78's. I used them as clay pigeons for skeet practice.His description of Navy life was much the same as my experiences. "Years and years of boredom, with fleeting moments of sheer panic and terror."  Much has changed since I got out.

SCA

Rest assured the photo of the USS West Virginia is included here only with the greatest respect.  The Class of '62 grew up in a marvelous era following what can best be described as a dangerous era.

More Old News from the Anchor - Stanton Arendts

The December 24, 1936, issue of the Anchor reports:

Stanton Carl Arendts of Kensett, son of Mr. and Mrs. Carl E. Arendts, has been nominated to be the first alternate to Gerald Carney of New Hampton for an appointment to the Naval Academy at Annapolis, MD, according to word received from Congressman Fred Biermann, who made the nomination.  The appointment begins in July, 1937, it is said.  With the present world situation, Arendts is almost assured of an appointment to the Academy, it is understood.


The Stan Arendts we know, who often signs his emails SCA, also served in the Navy.  Stan, fill us in on this earlier version of SCA, please.

What Technology Brings

Logitech Webcam - about $50

A few days ago I was talking with the District Governor of the Wisconsin Lions about a workshop I will present at the March District meeting, and described for him how my brother and I are able to use technology to stay in touch with my Dad.  The next day I was reflecting on the Miniatur Wunderland posted yesterday, and the technological progress it has meant for all of us.  And I realized - it's all the same topic!

The Governor has asked me to write a story in the State Newsletter for our Lions, many of whom are aging, to encourage the use of technology now available.  Reviewing what I wrote, it is probably suitable as a story to post, and challenge each of you who are in need of staying in touch with your aging parents or elders, or even with your children/grandchildren if they are far away.  Here's what I wrote:

Dad in 1939

My dad is 94.

He has had a computer for close to 25 years, and as he has aged we have found ways to use the computer and internet to accomplish a number of things.  In late 2009 we added a webcam, and this past summer we upgraded him to a Mac.

We checked out a few options for video conferencing and finally settled on Logitech Vid software because it is the easiest for him to use.  We added a Dropbox folder for storing and sharing documents, and TeamViewer software so we can control his computer remotely.  My brother, a Mac guy, uses their iChat function.

Dad loves his music, which he plays using iTunes, and, an avid reader his entire life, he has a long list of e-books including several Zane Grey stories that are his favorites.  Using an online photo service we are able to share several photos and videos with him.  He has seen our oldest grandson performing at a jazz concert and now has enjoyed the youngest grandson running the train we set up under our Christmas tree, smoke, whistle, and all.

We are able to make all this happen by doing hookups and software setup when we are on-site, then connecting with him by video conferencing on a regular basis.  When he has problems with the computer or we need to show him something, we connect by way of TeamViewer and I can operate his computer remotely even though he lives miles away.

About three years ago I started helping him with his bank accounts, viewing them online, downloading transactions to Quicken, and providing him reports on a monthly basis.  He lost his right arm 50 years ago and has difficulty writing checks, so doing it for him online is a big help, and I am able to watch his bills and payments for him.

At the end of the month I put all the transaction and balance reports in his Dropbox, check in with him by video conferencing, take over his computer remotely with TeamViewer, and walk through each report with him, line by line.

From time to time I will tell him about the weather outside my window, and can take down the webcam, point it out the window and show him – the wind blowing the trees, rain sweeping across the street, or snow piled up by the snowplow.  When I do this he just giggles – at what he is able to see from so far away, at the marvelous changes in technology, how all of that is "live" and fed through, for him, a phone wire.  Progress.

In times of crisis the video feed is invaluable as a tool to check his mental and/or physical health; my brother, especially, may have a better handle on his needs than my sister who lives but a block away but works in Rochester.  

Dad used to complain about the cost of the phone and internet service, but that doesn’t happen anymore.  He loves the video chat, especially with his great-grandchildren.  And my brother and I are pleased that by way of his computer and the internet we are keeping him “out of the four walls” of his apartment. 

Technology provides so much – if you are willing to step out of your own limitations.  If you choose to do something like this I encourage you to "Keep It Simple Stupid" and let the usage grow as the comfort level increases.  You can set programs to load automatically if the computer is turned on, and set Vid to open simply by pressing the enter key when a call comes in.  

Demonstrate the potential by showing them a video conference you might have with your own children, and let them know they have that same potential.  Be bold.  You won't be sorry.

Stairway to a Confrontation

Just a few days after Richard Holstad told me about climbing the water tower I was in Northwood, where I ran into David Skellenger and his dad, Floyd.

I mentioned the story to them, and Floyd jumped right on it. Seems he was in charge of the public works in those days, and he got heat from the city council, his boss, when it happened. They were NOT happy. I suppose that's a good thing.

I figure it's like the Field of Dreams. If you build it, they will come.