Recipes for Living Bernard and Doris Linder

I was born February 17, 1918, in Knox Township, near the Lacelle community. My parents were Carl Linder and Cecile Tompkins Linder. My father and mother didn’t have to look far for their mates since the Linder and Tompkins families lived about a mile apart on the Leslie road. In fact, we were related to most of our neighbors within a 10 mile radius.

Dad was one of a family of eight, and Mother of a family of six. My family included my brother Leonard, who was 13 months older than I, and my sister Norma, 10 years younger than I. When my folks married, Dad was a farmer and Mother was a rural school teacher. The home in Knox Township, where Leonard and I were born, was their first home, but before we boys were married, we had lived on six different farms, always near or on the Lacelle road.

Lacelle was the "hub" of our community and the Saturday night gathering spot. There was a store, an ice house, and a skating rink all owned by O. E. Davis and his wife. We would sell him our eggs and cream and buy our groceries there.

As I look back now on my early years and some of the things that happened, I have concluded I was a "dumb little kid." Here are three examples:

When I was about 2 1/2 or three, I was always tagging along after my brother Leonard. We had one of those big grind stones that you operated with your feet like a bicycle. The trick of good tool sharpening was to keep the stone wet. Leonard was doing a good job of pouring water (?) out of a can onto the stone. Little brother was thirsty and took a big drink. What terrible tasting water! Leonard had filled the can from the kerosene barrel. Fortunately Mother knew just what to do.

There was another incident when I was about four. My dad and one of our neighbors were working in a field close by. Leonard would go out and get their water jug to refill it. I begged until Dad let me take the jug in to fill. We had a windmill that pumped water through a pipe into the stock tank. When I took the jug back and they had taken a good drink, Dad asked me if I had put the pipe back on the pump spout. I told him I hadn't taken it down. "Where did you get the water?" "I filled the jug out of the stock tank." Live and learn!

One day during my first year of country school, we had just been dismissed for the day. I needed to stop at the outhouse but Leonard had already started down the road. I didn't want to walk home alone. I could see our house from the school, so I decided I could make it home. I didn't make it. I am now very careful what I drink, and when we are traveling, we very seldom pass a rest area without stopping.

One of the things that stand out in my memory as a child was the closeness of the families in the Lacelle community. Farms were about a quarter-mile apart, everybody knew everybody and what was happening in their lives. Most of them in our neighborhood were related to others living there and there was lots of kids. All of this contributed to some of my most vivid recollections - the bountiful pot luck dinners with all the homemade ice cream you could eat. I remember there was one at Groveland which, along with the Leslie center, ceased to exist. There were neighborly deeds when someone needed help for any of a variety of reasons, and showers were given for a young couple about to be married. Many years later, when Virginia
and I were married, among the gifts we received were delicious home-canned fruits and vegetables, beautiful embroidered pillow cases, luncheon cloths, and other hand-crafted items.

I attended country school in Ward #8 and #9 except for one year in Knox Township. We were blessed with very good teachers. The education we received in the rural schools enabled us to continue our studies in high school on an even level with the kids that went to grade school in town. A few of the grade school memories are:
+      The pledge of allegiance to the flag of the U.S. and a patriotic song to start each day.
+      Playing ball at recess.
+      Being chosen to fill the water pail for the teacher.
+      Riding our pony to school when the snow was too deep to walk.
+      Wet mittens and overshoes drying near the coal heating stove.
+      Family picnics on the last day of school.
+      Graduating from eighth grade in 1931.

On January 3, 1928 the Linder family was blessed with a new addition. My sister Norma was born at the Drs. Sells' and Stray's hospital. It was located on the second floor above what is now the Osceola Drug Store. During the next three years, my primary summer job was taking care of Little Sister, so Mother could tend her big garden, take care of a large flock of chickens, do all the summer canning, and other household chores. Norma and I put a lot of miles on our coaster wagon. Riding in it was one of her favorite past times.

We lived about eight miles from Osceola. Dad bought us a used Model T coupe to commute to high school. Leonard was always mechanically inclined and kept the Model T on the road until we both finished school.

In high school I took all the business-related courses that were offered. Activities were school newspaper, drama (three school class plays), and the debating team. In my senior year we went to Iowa City for the State Final Debates.

Like most farmers in the 30s, our folks had very little money. Productive farming in this area was never assured, and 1934 stands out in my mind as particularly disastrous. There was a drought that kept the com stalks about four feet tall instead of six, and no ears developed. I don't know where Dad obtained it, but we had a "fodder sled" that had a cutting device. We rode it between the rows of cornstalks, it cut them, and we gathered them into shocks to be threshed. This was the feed that saved the cattle.

The situation was compounded by an infestation of chinch bugs. Melvin Goeldner was then County Extension Agent and made a brief mention of them in his book From the Old Place to Pearl Street. In his summary of the years of 1938-1939, he told about meetings to discuss the possibility of rural electrification, organizing the Sheep Producers Association, giving consideration to soil conservation, having demonstrations of contour plowing, and "two creosoted paper-fence demonstrations were held to show how chinch bugs might be controlled."

I well remember what had to be done about the latter. The bugs moved like an army from our pasture to a field where they systematically devoured the plants leaving nothing behind. We had to put down a line of creosote mixed with used motor oil with post holes spaced every few feet. They would not cross the line and the crop was saved.

But my parents, like farmers all around us, accepted their lot. Everyone was in the same situation. When we needed gas for the car, Mother would send some cream or eggs to town with us. We would sell them to Albert Glenn's Produce, then go up the street to Sander's Oil Company and get our gas. On Sundays during the summer months, we spent quite a bit of time at Lewis Springs. It cost 10¢ to swim and another dime got us a bottle of Jewell pop. Jewell pop was bottled locally. The original plant was at 207 North Main. Sanders Oil Company was in the front part of the building and Jewell Bottling Company in the back. Later they moved to the building that is now Clarke County Tire, which had formerly been McPherson Implement Company after they moved from the Leslie community.

In the fall of 1936, I got a job at Armour’s feeding chickens and cleaning out the batteries they were housed in. The chickens were cleaned and dressed and shipped by refrigerated rail cars to a processing plant. The Armour plant was beside the railroad tracks, at 117 E. Ayers, now the can and bottle redemption center. Ernest Miller was my supervisor.

Two weeks after starting at Armour’s, I heard about a job opening at J. C. Penney's. I left and went to Penney's, where I worked from October 1936 until April 1938. My starting wage was $30 a month with a small bonus for employees who made the sales quota. Jim Glover was store manager - a good teacher but a hard taskmaster. We came to work at 7:00 a.m. and worked until 6:00 p.m., then came back after supper for two hours, except for Friday nights. Jim wanted us to get a good night's sleep so we would be ready for Saturday, when we were open until 10:00 p.m. Regardless of the long hours, I enjoyed working there and learned a lot about the retail business.

While I was working at Penney's, I married my high school sweetheart, Virginia Luther. We were married in the Christian Church parsonage right after work on a Saturday night. Rev. F. Clare McCallon was the minister, with Leonard and his fiancé Kathryn Nevelyn standing up with us. The article in the Osceola Sentinel read, "They immediately went to housekeeping." Our first home was a little one-bedroom house complete with an outhouse and a well in the back yard. We were making payments of $10 a month on this $500 mansion.

A memory or two:
+      Receiving a tearful telephone call from Virginia that we had bed bugs.
+      Papering the ceiling in the living room and having the plaster all fall off.
+      Getting our first bank loan to add running water and a new bathroom.
+      Purchasing our first automobile eight years after we were married. We mostly hitched rides with others until then.

One day as I was walking home for lunch, Rich Robinson stopped me and said he was looking for a young man to be an assistant manager in his Economy 5 and 10 Store. That was the beginning of a 65-year relationship with Robinson's.

The February 6, 2003 Osceola Sentinel had two articles regarding Bernard. One was the announcement of his 85th birthday coinciding with his retirement from Robinson's Department Store and the open house that would be held on February 15 at the First Christian Church in Osceola. The other was an article written by Chris Dorsey with the title "Linder ends lengthy career at Robinson's" with subtitle, "Businessman leaves with fond memories."

"Bernard noted changes through the years. Prices of merchandise have risen from when bib overalls were 89¢, two work shirts could be purchased for $1, and women's print house dresses sold for 99¢. Personnel, customers, and the business climate have likewise changed - but one thing remains the same at the store - its dedication to customer service. That was one of the first pieces of advice Robinson gave a young Osceola man during his first week on the job. Customer satisfaction wasn't desired to make the store and community successful, it was necessary."

Bernard described Rich Robinson as a "caring and compassionate boss who was loyal to his store’s patrons," and the policy has been continued by Bernard, partner Mickey Thomas, and Dennis Foote.

I have always enjoyed taking part in various organizations through the years: Boy Scouts of America, Little League Baseball, City of Osceola Swimming Pool Committee, and Osceola Chamber of Commerce.

The church has always been an important part of my life, beginning with the Lacelle Union Church (composed of a Baptist Church and a Methodist Church). We met in both churches alternating Sundays. It was our good fortune to have some very dedicated children's Sunday school teachers.

Virginia was a member of the First Christian Church in Osceola. I started attending in 1936 and was baptized soon after. I served as usher, deacon, elder, trustee, and Sunday school teacher.

I served 2 1/2 years in the army, from July 1943 through February 1946. For two of those years I was in the Panama Canal Zone in the Quartermaster Corps. The first year I was company clerk, and the second year I was NCO (Non-commissioned Officer) in charge of our detachment. Our company headquarters was on the Pacific side of the Canal Zone and our detachment was on the Atlantic side. Our duties were to furnish food, clothing, and supplies to the army personnel stationed in the Canal Zone. It was a very happy day in February 1946, when my train arrived in Osceola with me and my discharge papers in hand.

Virginia and I had three children: Lowell, who became a Dr. of Psychology, and lives with his wife Janine in Louisville, Kentucky. Pamela (Pam), who was an LPN (Licensed Practical Nurse), and lives with her husband Pastor Orval (Butch) Black in Roseville, Illinois. Cynthia (Cindy) is a pre-school teacher. She lives with her husband, Rev. Randol Goodrich, near Elkhart, Iowa.

In 1975, Virginia was diagnosed with cancer. With the help of some very good doctors and surgeons, we were able to enjoy 17 more years, until her death in 1992.

Later, Doris Richardson came into my life, and we discovered several relationships. Her cousin married my sister many years ago, and we were both related to two different families through marriages. When Doris helped research the rural schools' records for publication in books by townships, she discovered that my mother, Cecile Tompkins, had taught her mother, Esther Crandall, at the Leslie school in Knox Township. Doris also attended the Christian Church, and I had seen her there.

When Doris invited me to fill in at a card party at her house, I decided to go as I knew all the friends she played cards with. She had lost her husband in 1990 so we were both widowed, and it seemed right to go and have a good time that night. That was the beginning of a friendship and many dates. We had a lot of enjoyments in common. We both liked working in the lawn and garden and playing golf. It all led to a romance and our wedding on December 26, 1993.

Doris had four children - Kent and wife Jan, Kathy and husband Steve, Connie (now divorced), and Carla and husband Ray. We are blessed with 15 grandchildren and 18 greatgrandchildren. Doris and I now live in an apartment, so we have more time for traveling, bus tours, and visiting our children and grandchildren.

We learn many lessons in life. The one that stands out is how important people are in our lives. First, our parents and our families, our teachers, friends, and our associates with whom we work. Where would we retail merchants be without all those loyal customers? When sorrow strikes, the compassion of our church family is always there. For those of us growing older, the medical profession becomes even more important to help with the extra maintenance our bodies seem to require.

Doris

I, Doris Emma Reed, was born on February 16, 1926. I was born twenty minutes later than my twin sister, Deloris Anna Reed. Our parents were Denzel Frank Reed and Esther Leona Crandall Reed. We girls were named after our grandmothers, Emma Crandall and Anna Reed.

We had two older brothers - Don was four, and Dale two, when Deloris and I were born. Can you picture how much work we four kids were for our parents at that time? Water had to be carried in - no electricity, no inside bathroom. As we got older, it was our job to keep the reservoir in the stove filled, cobs or wood carried in, and a bucket of fresh water - it always seemed they put the wells about as far from the house as they could. Of course, we all drank from the same dipper. Come Saturday night, the big round tub was carried in and set behind the pot-bellied stove in the dining room. We all took turns bathing (in the same water, I think). The men would have to go to the kitchen while Mom and we girls bathed and vice versa while it was their turn. Did you ever back up too close to the stove? Ooouuuchhh!

My very first memory was our fourth birthday. Our beloved Aunt Chloe was visiting. We had wonderful relatives but none could measure up to Aunt Chloe. That day she told us girls to go to the front room and play as she was going to make something for us. She finally came to the door and announced, "O.K., girls, go look in the glass door cupboard in the kitchen." We ran in and there were two decorated cakes, four candles on each. I don't believe we ever had our own cakes again. I still remember that tall dark oak cupboard with the long glass doors on the top half. We would always peek in there to see what goodies Mom had made.

I was never really an individual on my own, as my twin sister and I did everything together. We dressed alike all through high school. That wasn’t hard to do as Mom made our dresses out of feed sacks. The feed dealer always made sure he brought two of each pattern. Actually, they were very pretty prints.

We lived on a farm then called the "Emmett Farm," which was just west and north of what is now the New Virginia exit off Interstate 35. On our farm there was a creek that was just beyond the barn. In the winter time, when Deloris and I were on our way to school, even though we wore coveralls over our clothes, and were very proud of our leather pilot-style caps with goggles, we still were cold. It seems back then that once winter started, it never let up until March. We would be so cold by the time we got to the creek, we would be crying. Mom would walk us that far but had to rush back to the house and check on our little brother, Bud, who was born in August 1932. My sis and I always said he was too pretty a baby to be a boy.

When I was in fourth grade, I came down with a kidney disease. I missed three months of school, and all that time my only nourishment was from liquids and thin oatmeal. Because my folks were in the process of moving, I had to stay with my grandparents, Dean and Anna Reed. Grandma made a bed for me out of three chairs pushed up against the wall and padded down with blankets. She wanted me close to their bedroom so she could hear me in the night. All other bedrooms were upstairs.

After three months, I returned to school. The teacher didn't put me back a grade, but she was sure my family had kept me out longer than necessary, so she called on me to come to the head of the class and read the day's reading lesson. Ordinarily I was a good student, but I didn't know some of the words, so she kept me during recess and spanked me. Our home was a mile away if we cut through our timber or a mile and a half if we went around the road. All the way home, Don, Dale, and Sis were so mad that they rushed in and told my parents what had happened, which made them very mad, also. Gee, Dad always said, "If you get in trouble at school, you are in deep trouble when you get home." Here he was, now, threatening to go see the teacher. The next day, on the way to school, Dale prompted me on what to say when the teacher asked, "What did your parents say about your spanking?" Quoting Dale, I said, "They wanted to kick you out the door red hot." That teacher is now deceased.

During my illness, the folks had moved about a mile south of New Virginia, so we now went to that school. Dad drove the bus, sometimes using our car. Our dad was pretty busy, driving the bus and taking care of our farm. He also spent a lot of time helping his folks on their farm, so there were many times when Mom and we kids had to go out and do the chores. Deloris and I liked basketball, but we knew that if we played on the team, we would have to walk the mile and a quarter home after practice in the evening. Dad was a big fan of our home games but he just didn't have time to stop every day to come get us after practice.

Every summer we girls got to go for short visits with Mom's brother and sisters, and Grandpa and Grandma Crandall. Uncle Ovie and Aunt Lelia Romine took us for our first time to Riverview Park. Uncle Frank and Jessie Crandall took us for our first trip to the State Fair. Uncle Newt and Aunt Alta lived close to Liberty and we liked going there, too. Of course, it was exciting when Grandpa and Grandma Crandall took us for rides in their Model T. I can remember how it would shimmy if we went over 40 miles an hour.

Deloris and I always went together when we visited our relatives, but once I decided to go home with Grandpa and Grandma Reed by myself. A disgruntled grandpa had to bring me home in the middle of the night. I had never been anywhere without Deloris, and I was so sick! Homesick.

A cousin, who lived with them at that time, taught us to ride a bike. We wanted a bike so much that Dad went to an auction where they were selling one. He moved up close to bid but he was standing beside a boy who was begging his father to get it for him, and Dad quit bidding. We were disappointed but felt good about the boy getting it. I bought my first bike for myself after I graduated. When we graduated, Deloris and I got enough money from relatives to buy a wrist watch for each of us.

The Barnard kids used to walk as far as our house and ride to school with us. Once when Dad was about ready to take off, we heard fire sirens, and our neighbor up the hill from us called and said, "Tell Denzel we think the fire is at his folks' place." Dad turned around and asked the kids if it was all right if we headed for his folk's house instead of going to school first. Of course, everyone said, "Yes." It was Dean and Anna's house, and it burned to the ground. We all walked into the school building late and smelling like smoke, but the superintendent understood why Dad had made that choice.

In December 1937, our baby brother was born. Mom let us girls name him, and we chose Larry Dean. Our whole family doted on him, and now that we girls were 11, going on 12, we got to take care of him a lot. Larry was the only one of us who was born in a hospital. Neither he nor Mom was in good health. Dr. Jardine said Mom was so anemic that she had to go to the Methodist Hospital in Des Moines. Dad had warned us that Christmas might not be too big that year, so the night before Mom was to get home, we were shocked when Dad informed us that since the "Opry Barn Dance" was close to the hospital, he was going to take us there. Talk about being thrilled, sitting up there in that crowd, and watching the show! Weere ecstatic! Then, when we brought Mom home, there was also a sled for us to share.

I weighed only 3 1/2 pounds when I was born and continued to be scrawny all through high school. Deloris was a head taller than I and 20 to 25 pounds heavier. My dad pampered me, and I realize now that I really took advantage of that. When we got into a scrap, I would run to "My Daddy" and he would take my side. Mom was our anchor. She was always there, doing something - baking, scrubbing (her house had to be spotless), or patching clothes. She baked six loaves of bread every other day, plus cookies, cakes, pies, etc. Dad was the affectionate one, always hugging us or holding us on his lap. He played ball outside with us. He made us cross sticks to push those little iron hoops around. Inside, we played cards, checkers, caroms, and much to Mom's chagrin, he wrestled around with the boys.

I remember when our washing machine broke down, Dad hooked up another one on a pulley powered by the tractor. That meant that the washing would be done outside, no matter how cold it got. In the winter, every wash day, Mom ended up having croup. We spent many panic hours until she could come out of it. Dr. Jardine assured us she would never die with it. He said that when she fell unconscious, her throat relaxed, and she no longer had to gasp for air. Mom wasn't sure of that as she had lost two brothers with croup in their early years. Mom had seven other brothers and sisters. Dad had two sisters.

My first job was when I was 12. I was supposed to baby sit for my two cousins who were living with Grandma Reed at the time. I was to get $3 a week. Grandma and Aunt E.D.C. were canning so my job stretched into packing water, doing dishes, washing jars, and pushing the handle on the washing machine, but when it stretched to carrying the chamber pot down the steep steps from upstairs, my mom put a stop to the job. She had enough work for me to do at home.

When our brothers, Don and Dale, joined the Navy in 1942, Deloris and I inherited the chores like milking the cows, putting up hay, checking on the new piglets at midnight in a shed way down the lane. I asked many times, "Why did those brothers leave us?" Then I read about the five Sullivan brothers who all died at the same time and realized that Don and Dale might not come home, so that changed our attitude. Thank God they did.

I always liked school. I still write poems, stories, and skits. I had one poem published in the Quill Publication, "Down Peaceful Paths," Volume VI. My poem, written in 1951, was called, "Grandma,"

She will be dearly missed by all.
Many times we went to her house to call.
She greeted everyone with a hearty, "Hello!"
And followed you to the car when it was time to go.
Her house always kept up nice and neat.
Her table always laden with good things to eat.
Her cellar filled, shelf after shelf,
Proud she had canned it all by herself.

Sympathy and kindness given when needed,
Her advice was always heeded.
Her joy supreme in her role as a wife,
Welcoming each new in-law, each new life.
Still a little jealous of Grandpa's charm,
But not enough to cause any harm.

The sound of her laugh, the nod of her silvery head,
The tiredness in her eyes as she combed her long
tresses and went to bed.
I'm sure you will agree, there is no other
That can compare to our grandmother.

That was a poem about Grandma Crandall. I also draw caricatures, and picture stories.

I graduated in 1943 from Osceola High School. During our senior year, if our grades were high enough, we were given the opportunity to work at Armour’s for the last two hours of the day. Deloris and I and several classmates went there and broke eggs, which were to be made into powdered eggs for the servicemen. Our two brothers were in the Navy so we thought they probably got some of the very eggs we were putting into the buckets.

After I graduated in 1943, I went to Des Moines to work for Equitable Insurance. My classmates, Mary Jo Patterson and Margaret Miller, were also employed in Des Moines and we all roomed together. Another classmate, Irene Pedersen, worked up there also but lived in another apartment. We enjoyed just getting on the buses and riding the different routes to find out about Des Moines. We also went to a lot of movies. I took the bus back to Osceola every weekend, though, as my family was still my priority.

Before Dale left for the Navy, a few of the guys he ran around with were Everett and Leo Richardson and Phillip Henrich. It just so happened that Dale was stationed on Bainbridge Island on Puget Sound - just a ferry ride from Seattle. Everett was in the Army stationed at Ft. Lewis. Dale met and married Berniece in Seattle, and one night the fellows got together at their home. Everett took the address of a letter I had sent to Dale, wrote to me, and asked for a date when he came home on furlough.

We dated the whole time he was home. He looked so handsome and cocky in his uniform. After returning to Seattle, he and Dale started begging me to come out. I finally gave in and consented to go. It wasn't easy to convince Dad and Mom to let me go on the train clear to Seattle, but they finally gave in. I was scared to death all the way. I had never been any further from home than Des Moines. I almost missed my transfer at St. Paul, Minnesota. There were a lot of G.I.s on the train and most of them were drinking and being loud. I slouched down in a seat toward the front and a shy soldier told me he would sit with me so they wouldn't bother me. We discovered that we were both soon going to be married.

When I got off the train in Seattle, I didn't see either Dale or Everett. The big depot was crowded with people going every which direction. I felt hopeless, not knowing what to do next. I just stood there and prayed for a miracle. Shortly after, I saw Everett coming in a side door. Relief! We took the ferry over to Dale and Berniece's. The next morning we went into Seattle to get a license. We wanted to get married that day so we had to go in front of a judge and get special permission. We needed a witness so we went down on the street and asked a sailor. He agreed but when we were back in front of the judge, we and the judge noticed he had been drinking. They allowed him to sign.

We called Dale and Berniece to meet us that afternoon. We were married by the very same minister that had married them. What are the chances of two farm siblings from Iowa being married by the same minister in Seattle, Washington? I immediately got a job at the Army Engineers' office building in downtown Seattle. My shorthand and typing skills paid off in that interview.

When I think of Seattle, I remember V-J Day on August 24, 1945. I worked on the 16th floor and all of a sudden we heard sirens and shouting. We ran to the elevators. None were operating. We ran down the flights of stairs, out onto the streets. It was chaos! Servicemen were everywhere, grabbing and hugging everyone, yelling, "The war is over, it's really over!" I wanted to get home but the busses were overcrowded and I couldn't get one. The bus drivers got out of their buses, closing their doors until the mob quieted down. I walked 22 blocks to get home. What an exciting day!

Later, we were transferred to Clatskinine, Oregon. We Army wives drove down; the guys came by Army transportation. The town had one main street lined with stores, and there was no opportunity for a job there. We spent our time going for walks and picking fresh apples off the trees. By that time I knew I was pregnant. We went home on leave in November and were in Iowa for Thanksgiving. Because Everett was to be discharged in December, I decided not to ride the train back out west with him. It developed, however, that he didn't have enough points and was not discharged until February. After he was discharged, we rented three farms in the next few years.

April 29, 1946 was a beautiful day. I sensed that we needed to get to the hospital and ran out to the field to get Everett off the tractor. I was a bit scared, but I took time to snatch lilacs off our bush and take them with me. Eight hours later our only son, Alan Kent, was born - a beautiful little red-haired boy. Because Everett had been in the service when I became pregnant, the cost was only $10, and that was for the circumcision - what a difference in the cost of births since then!

In January 1948, I was pregnant with Kathy, and in that year, we lost my father. He was only 48 years old. He was to have gall bladder and gall stone surgery, but yellow jaundice set in and he didn't survive the surgery. Larry was 10 at that time and Dad had still been holding him every night before he put him to bed. That was the first trauma I had ever had to face.

We moved to Weldon, where Everett ran a gas station. Our first daughter, Kathryn Aileen, was born on July 17, 1948. She was a replica of her sweet Grandma Richardson. As she became old enough, she tagged around after Kent, which caused some problems when he started to school. Our house was just a block from the building, so he walked, came home for lunch, and walked back. It happened more than once that I suddenly realized Kathy was not there and, embarrassed, ran to school. There she would be, sitting in Kent's classroom. Each time I apologized to the teacher and took Kathy home. We were glad when she was old enough to go.

One night, when Kent was five and Kathy three, we went to a movie. We discovered, when we came home, our house was on fire. We first thought it was snow steaming from the roof, but all of a sudden the big picture window burst and flames went up. Neighbors showed up from everywhere and had a bucket brigade from our well to the house. They put out the fire, and the fire investigators said it was an electrical problem. The house was repairable but that old smoke smell stayed a long time.

That experience had a traumatic effect on five year old Kent. He never wanted to leave the house again, for fear of something happening. To add to that, there was a time that we were coming back from a family outing to pick up a Christmas tree. We came to a T in the road and discovered our brakes weren't working. We bounced into a ditch and every time we bounced, poor Kent's head hit the roof of the car. Again he begged us for a long time not to go anyplace. (Now he loves zipping down the highway in his semi.)

We moved to Leon in 1953, where we ran our own business. Connie Sue was born June 13 of that year, a month past her due date. She was in the wrong position, I was beginning to have high blood pressure problems, and when she appeared, and her little face was black and blue. I was in panic! I thought it was a birthmark. They explained that her mouth was the first part of her that appeared so they had to grab her to prevent the possibility of her suffocating. Later we realized that going overtime had its advantages. She walked at eight months, was asking for suurrr cisssspp (sugar crisp) at nine months, and chatted when she was one year old.

Kathy immediately turned into a "little mother" for Connie, and had two to mother when Carla Marie was born June 4, 1957. At that time, Jim Schaffer, the P & S and Derby owner, asked us to move to Kirksville, Missouri, to start a new station for him. It didn't take the girls long to realize the advantage of three-against-one, and they blamed everything on Kent. For example, when Carla discovered holes in her socks, she said, "Kent done it."

Kent always pretended that he wanted no part of babysitting the girls, but when anything happened to them, he was the first to help. Kent inherited his grandma's croup. He had many bouts with it through the years, but when he was seven, it was really bad. I fixed the vaporizer with Vap-O-Rub and placed it beside him, but when he started turning blue, we called the doctor. He came to our house and gave him a shot to bring him out of it. He had me fix sheets over Kent's crib with an opening just big enough to let steam in. He told me not to use Vap-0-Rub when he was that bad - just plain water. Kent stayed in that tent bed for three days.

When Carla was six, she had pneumonia and mumps at the same time. Afterwards she began having fainting spells, which continued through school until her sophomore year. The doctors warned us that she might not live through puberty because of her white blood cell count along with a heart murmur. I made many trips to school to bring her home and all those years, each time I left home, I would call the school to let them know where I could be reached in case they needed to call me. Carla had no forewarning of an impending spell, but one teacher, Mrs. Beverly Schader, caught on to watching for the signs. Carla did have some serious falls, but I never denied her the pleasure of riding her bike or participating in games with the other kids. I could remember when I was a child; I was not allowed to do those things because I was prone to catch colds and flu. There were many times I would look out the window and watch the other kids sledding and playing in the snow, having a ball. I was not going to deprive Carla of that.

After moving from the farm, I got a job at the "Little Pink Store," that was owned by Ralph and Marie Kimmel. It was located across from the high school, on the comer of West Clay and Main Street. The school became North Elementary, then was condemned and now is gone. Ralph and Marie were wonderful employers. I asked Ralph one time how he happened to paint the store pink all those years. His reply was quick, "I got a good deal on pink paint." Another couple I worked for became my very good friends, Jim and Della Cothern, who had a law office.

One night while I was working in the store, the lumber yard on Main Street caught fire. It was where the Fareway parking lot is now located. From where we stood, it looked like the whole town was burning. We went to watch it and it was huge. My sister Deloris and her family lived on Park Street just behind the lumber yard, and they thought they might have to vacate their house because huge sparks were flying everywhere.

In 1966, we moved out to an acreage north of town. We called it "God's Little Acre." The kids loved it out there except that it took all of us to keep up with mowing the lawn. By that time, Kent was in the Navy.

We moved to Waterloo in 1959, where Everett and friends heard that John Deere was paying high wages. He worked there for three years and was laid off. We had to give up a new house and move back to Murray to his folks' farm. We got a chance to buy a tavern in Osceola and came back here. It was a good paying business but not too good an environment for our kids, so we sold it. I went to Des Moines and got a job at American Republic Insurance. I rode with a group from Osceola.

In 1969 Everett had his first breakdown. He started to remember some close calls that he had in the Aleutian Islands. Connie and Carla were still home, and I came back to Osceola to look after Everett. That is when Leota (Curly) Miller called on me to give me comforting words. As time went on I decided to join the Lutheran Church, which she attended. Pastor Baumgarn was the minister. He had a great influence on our family, and after taking a confirmation course, we all joined the church. I accepted Christ as my Savior on May 24, 1970. My verse to remember was Ps. 27:1, "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of what shall I be afraid?" I still claim it.

I got a job at Clarke Elementary as a T.A. (Teacher's Aide) and soon became a secretary at North Elementary. That was a joyous time for me as I loved the kids and the teachers. I worked there for 12 years, but Everett had three more breakdowns - in 1971, '73, and '74. Each time he was in Veterans' Hospital for a few months. With medication, Everett was able to function and each time he immediately went back to work. Osceola creditors were very good to us. I paid what I could. It took awhile but we caught up with our bills. Everett's view had always been, if you want something that isn't a need, but you don't have money for it, don't charge it.

In 1975 my mom's second husband, Homer Hull, died. Mom hadn't been feeling well for a week or so. A week after Homer's death, Dr. Lauvstad diagnosed her with encephalitis (sleeping sickness). She was transferred to Methodist Hospital ICU (Intensive Care Unit). It was a tragic time for us kids, especially Sis and me. Even though she didn't know it, every evening after we got off work, we drove to Des Moines to be with her. She was finally taken out of ICU, but she couldn't talk or walk. She didn't remember that Homer had died. It took a lot of therapy to get her back on her feet and to realize that Homer was gone. After a little over a year, she was driving her car again.

In 1981, we moved back to town. I was still working at school and Everett was employed in the maintenance department at the high school. Our home being on North Main made it handy for our work and also to walk to town to get what we needed. It was at that time that Everett started showing signs of Alzheimer’s. He would wander off, and I would have to look for him. With all his belief of never charging anything, he started using our credit cards, so I had to destroy them. It is not possible to reason with someone at that stage, as they don't comprehend. It was so sad for him and also for the kids and me.

There was another tragedy in 1988. In June we found out that our Larry had cancer. Don, Dale, and I went out by AMTRAK to see him. In October, Bud and Ramona, Mom, and I drove out. As we left, when I was hugging Larry good-bye, he said, "Sis, you had better tell the family that if they don't come to see me by Christmas, I'll be gone." He died at Thanksgiving. My mom's words were, "Your children are not supposed to go first." She later fell, broke her back, had surgery, had a pace-maker implanted, and kept going. She was a fighter.

In 1990; Everett died of emphysema, Alzheimer’s, and he also had the effects of sleep apnea. We lost Dad when he was 48 years old, Larry at 50, and Everett at 67. We were losing our family much too soon.

My family has always been a big part of my life. Don was our protector when we four kids walked to country school. He was always so grown up for his age. Mom said he was sewing buttons on our clothes for her when he was five years old, helping Dad with chores and in the by age seven. He always got straight A's and thought all of us should. After the Navy, he went to college, went right to work for Bell telephone, and after retiring, he worked at Boys' Town until his 80th birthday. He and Freda have two sons.

Dale teased us girls all our lives, but when we got older, he informed us which boys not to date. He and Berniece are parents of six children. They still live in Washington and he is still full of fun, even though he had very serious kidney surgery. He ran his own service stations out there until he retired. He likes to reminisce about the times we had as kids.

My sis lives about eight miles from Osceola. Deloris vowed when she was a senior, "I will never marry a farmer." Guess what, she did. We still go shopping together and have a ball. She worked at the ASC (Agriculture Stabilization and Conservation) office for many years. We get together with Bud and Ramona to play cards occasionally. Our Dad taught us all to play Pitch as soon as we knew the numbers. Deloris and Ed have two sons and a daughter.

Bud was 15 when Dad died. He immediately thought it was his place to become the "man of the house." Even though I was six years older than he, he was right there for me, emotionally and even financially when I needed it. He also joined the Navy and served for four years. He was general manager for Wonder Bread for many years. He and his wife have had lots of medical problems this past year. She had successful surgery on a tumor inside her heart. Bud has had both knees replaced and lots of therapy. After retiring he went to work for Veterans' Affairs in Indianola. He still works there. Bud and Ramona have seven children. They live in Medora.

Larry joined the Army right out of high school, stayed in for 20 years, then bought a semitruck and did trucking right up to the time he was diagnosed with cancer. He had three children and they lost their mother even before Larry, so these three kids were only in their 20's when both parents were gone.

My son Kent also joined the Navy right out of high school and spent four years there. Later he joined the Army and served there for another 16 years. He served two tours of duty in Viet Nam. We couldn't wait until he got out of there. He, like his Uncle Larry, wanted to drive a semi so that is what he is doing at this time. He and his wife Jan live in Eldorado Springs, Missouri. He has a son Jamie and daughter Tina, who live in New Mexico.

Kathy married Steve Ratcliff who was with Bell Telephone since 1965. The Army sent him to Germany to serve. Kathy went over with him. Our first grandchild, Shelley, was born in Germany. She was nine months old before we got to see her. Kathy was a doctor's receptionist, a school secretary, and now she baby sits. They also have a daughter Stacie. Both she and her husband have Master's Degrees in Geology. Steve was also a County Supervisor in Red Oak. They own and run an antique store there. They have six grandchildren. Kathy and I talk on Instant Message every night on the web. It really keeps us close.

Kathy and Steve's daughter, Shelly, gave us five great-grandchildren. Alexandra was born in 1991, and in 1995, when she was only four years old; the doctors discovered that she had leukemia. Relatives from all over the U.S. were praying for her at their churches, and God made sure she had good doctors. Alex is now 12 and doing well.

Connie has continued taking college courses off and on ever since she graduated. She is a certified O.R.T. (Operating Room Technician). She is also a certified massage therapist. She now works at Wells Fargo in Des Moines. She is divorced and has one son, Colby. Carla was a charter employee of Pamida here in Osceola. She married Ray Baker, who was a welder at Meullers. She stayed home with the boys, Johnny and Sean, for a few years and is now back at Pamida. They live near Weldon.

Through the years of raising our kids, I practically adopted another little girl, Deanna, the daughter of Dean and Donna Graham, with whom we played cards. From her first birthday, we helped her celebrate each one. Alongside my kids' school pictures, there was always one of Deanna also. I helped Deanna with school math and other homework. At school she appropriately called me Mrs. Richardson, even though she knew me as Doris. I coached girls' Little League softball, and she was one of my players. My star pitcher was Tammy Mongar, who later died of cancer. That is when I quit coaching. Deanna is now Deanna Graham Allen, married to David Allen. They have a little girl named Alena Kathryn Allen.

Three months after Everett died, I took my 90 year old mother into my home, to care for her. We had two wonderful years of comradeship. Loving and caring for her was one of the biggest rewards I ever had. She died in January 1993. That seems to be our jinx month-both Dad and Mom died in January. I had a miscarriage in 1956 in January. Our house in Weldon burned in January, and we had a car wreck in January. They were different years, of course, but we began to dread January.

One of the most entertaining aspects of my life has been our card club. We have had many enjoyable nights playing cards and chowing down good food. Our club consists of Rex and Sharon Cameron, Darrel and Sharon Morris, Doris and Harold Kentner, Don and Verda Wolfe, and now Bernard and I. This very club was to play at my house when I asked Bernard Linder to fill in at a table. He came and we sort of let him win at cards that night. We had a buffet supper and I sent some food home with him.

The next day he called to thank me for the food. He asked if I wanted to go for a ride. We ended up in Des Moines and went to a movie. That was the beginning of a whirlwind romance. We discovered that we both had spent a lot of time caring for others - he for his wife, Virginia, me for Everett and my mom. We became engaged and planned a Valentine wedding. Our children were all home for Christmas, and they suggested we get married while they were all here, so our wedding date was December 26.

Along with my four kids, I gained his three - Lowell, Pam, and Cindy and their families. We now have 15 grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren, precious every one. We have a grandson, Johnny that we are helping. He was three when Carla married Ray and he has had a lot of adjusting to do. He just wasn't ready when he went out on his own and he is learning a lot of lessons the hard way. (Isn't that life?) We have helped him furnish his apartment, pay car expenses, etc. A co-worker has taken him into their home and he acquired two sisters, whom he adores. We know God is watching over all of us, so why do we worry so much about our loved ones? God will take care of us and our situations.

At this time Kent is in his semi, Kathy has six grandchildren to love and "mother." She also babysits. Carla is content, working at Pamida. Connie is continuing her education, taking a college course along with her employment with Wells Fargo. I think she would have made an excellent massage therapist, but we have found it wise and useless to tell our grown children what we want them to do. It is best to just let them know we are there if they need us. But I'll never forget the photo we had taken one Easter-the four kids in their little suits, the girls with bonnets. What a quartet! I wrote a poem about my good bouquet:

That spring, we had sowed the seed,
Waiting for the first little sprout.
Our first was an April lilac.
The most exotic plant that one can hold.
He was our first and only male bloom.
He wasn't the only bloom, all told.
Next was our delightful rose, so sweet.
A precious gem in the middle of summer.
A few more years, another new-comer,
Our lily of the valley joined us in June.
A joy to all, a honey of a bloom.
Last but not least, our shy demure violet,
To make our happiness complete.
So you can see why
I call this my lucky day,
To pick such a lovely bouquet.

Alan Kent- April 29, 1946
Connie Sue- June 13, 1953
Kathryn Aileen- July 17, 1948
Carla Marie- June 4, 1957

After Mom passed away I went back to school as an Aide and also changed my member ship to the first Christian Church, as they had called on my mother many times while she was ill. I am now an elder and also secretary/treasurer of CWF (Christian Women's Fellowship). I am first vice president/program chairman of our local Osceola Women's Club. Bernard just recently retired from Robinsons after 65 years there. He and I enjoy bus tours - our latest was to Washington Island in Wisconsin. We also enjoy nights at the theater, dining out, our church, and, of course, visiting our children. We are looking forward to doing more of all of these things. We will have been married 10 years this coming Christmas.

I have a doll collection, and I put on shows at Nursing homes, hospitals, organizations, and clubs. I love church buildings, and when we travel, I take pictures of the churches that we can get to. Catholic Churches have beautiful interiors. One of my hobbies is making scrapbooks, and I have a scrapbook of those pictures.

As the years have gone by, I have had many surgeries. I no longer have my tonsils, adenoids, appendix, gall bladder, or thyroid. I gradually started gaining weight, and now my sis is the slim one and I am the overweight one. I thought if my sister ever reads this story in Fern's book, she will be insulted to find that I never corrected my statement about her being the larger of the two of us. I have also had shingles, double vision, and the trauma of Bell's Palsy, which is almost like a stroke. The right side of my face sagged and was numb. It took me months to get over that. The last time I had shingles, I just about went crazy with the burning and itching.

Johnny Lee·

I’ve found the one
Who makes my heart
Miss a beat.
He's loving, he's handsome, and
He’s real neat.
He likes trucks and cars,
And candy bars.
He loves to walk,
If we don't go his way
He sometimes balks.
When I don't see him for a day or two,
I call him on the phone.
He says, "I love you,
I miss you very much."
He says he is coming to town,
I love having him around.
I stand at the window,
Waiting for him to arrive.
There he is in the drive.
He gives me a kiss
And a big bear hug. He’s crazy about me!
He is Johnny Lee, he is three.
He is my precious grandson, you see.

This is a poem of my life over the years:

I grew up on a farm in good ol' Iowa,
And we all worked together, day after day,
With a loving Dad and Mom,
Four brothers and a twin,
All of our efforts were bound to win.
Though there were good times and bad,
Some of the best times I've ever had
Were spent with my family long ago.
My father died at a very young age
His grandchildren never knew this man of courage.
They never shared his fun-loving days
Nor knew how his strictness guided our ways.
I met a special guy; we had three girls and a boy.
So proud of each and every one.
I was at school as a secretary for twelve years,
No dull moments with so many girls and boys.
Each one precious in their own right,
Some happy, some sad, some shy, some bold,
They are our children to help and to mold.
We have many grand and great-grand girls and boys,
Who bring us many hours of joy.
I've seen more than I expected to see,
I’ve done more than I expected to do.
I've flown to the east coast and also the west.
But now I would like to tell you
The part that is best.
Some way, some how, this grace was given to I
I was chosen to share eternity
With my Lord in the sky.
He died for me, took away my sins,
He is saving a place for me with Him.
All those who are left when I am gone,
Don’t fret because I am home.
I feel no pain, no worry, no fears,
So loved ones, one and all, my dears
I am holding the door open till you get here.

From 1997 to 1999, a group of us compiled a series of books about rural schools in Clarke County. Each of us was assigned a township - mine was Green Bay. It was not only inspiring but it had special meaning to me as my mother was in some of the books. But Green Bay included schools where my brother Dale's kids attended, as well as my late brother Larry. These books were compiled by Clarke Area Retired School Personnel and Clarke County Historical Society. Maxine Wood was my co-chairperson on this project.

I am now 77 years old and so many previous memories come flooding in as I think of the many people important in my life. I didn't mention the wonderful neighborhood we found when we returned to the farm from our time in Waterloo. That was one of the best neighborhoods we were ever in, the kind of friends you have forever. We had wiener roasts, card games, and lots of fun at our coffees. Those neighbors were the Oshels, Husteds, Hartmans, and Joneses.

And then there are all of Everett's cousins, nieces, and nephews who still keep in touch with me. One very special niece is Linda Richardson Avey and her husband, Larry. We are especially close.

So many changes have taken place in my lifetime! At home with my siblings and parents we made our own sorghum. We cut the cane that we grew in the field, chopped it, and put it in the sorghum molasses cane mill. A long pole reached out and was hooked to the horse's harness. Someone led the horse around and around in circles while the press squeezed the sorghum into little barrels. Fresh sorghum on pancakes was delicious!

When farmers butchered, meat was not the only product. The fat was trimmed off the carcass and the whole family helped cut it into smaller pieces to render into lard. The cracklings were used to make soap. We added lye (can you imagine what that must have done to our skin?). It sure made for a white washing, though. We also added little balls of bluing to the rinse water.

After milking, we ran the milk through the separator, to separate the milk from the cream. With all that cream, we had fluffy whipped cream to eat on our desserts, especially fresh berries. We also took a freezer full of rich, vanilla ice cream to ice cream socials with our neighbors. Our cream was also taken to town to the produce station and traded for the staples we needed. One produce station I remember was that of Dean Hedricks and Pink Edwards. It was on the north side of the square in Osceola beside what is now Gene's Barber Shop.

We also put cream in a big five gallon chum for our butter. If we were caught short without butter and it was almost meal time, Mom would put some cream in a fruit jar and we kids took turns shaking that jar until we had butter. There was one "butter incident" that I won't ever forget. We needed some for supper so we girls were sent to the cave where it was kept in a crock. As we were dipping butter into a bowl, the jars at the side started falling over. We had a flashlight but we couldn't see anything. I accused Deloris of backing into the empty jars. She said, "It's not me, Sis; didn't you do that?" No. We started screaming and ran out of the cave. The whole family heard us and came running, Dad with a lantern and flashlight. He went down into the cave and after what seemed a very long time, he emerged with an eight-foot bull snake on the end of a hoe. To this day, Sis and I are afraid of snakes.

Speaking of butter reminds me that during the war there were little white packages of oleo with a capsule of yellow coloring in them. The capsule was to be busted and the bag of oleo squeezed so that the yellow coloring was distributed evenly.

We also made cottage cheese. I remember Mom clabbering milk, putting it in a white cloth sack, hanging it on the clothesline to let it drip and ripen. At suppertime, all that was needed was to bring it in and season it.

Our Grandpa Crandall was an expert at curing meat, so we always had bacon and ham in the smoke house. When the fryers were ready, Mom and we girls would go out and kill four chickens for lunch. We had to put a broom handle over their necks and pull until their heads came off They would flop all over the place, and when we caught them, we dipped them in scalding water so we could remove their feathers. Talk about cruelty to animals!

Every season Mom expected to can 100 quarts of vegetables from the garden and fruit from our orchards. Sometimes at the end of a days' work, we would all sit and peel tomatoes, peaches, or whatever, as we listened to the radio. Once chores were done, we would listen to The Green Hornet, Jack Armstrong, Fibber McGee and Molly, etc.

Sometimes before Dad could do his spring plowing, we kids would have to go to the fields, scanning the whole field for rocks. We threw them into a small cart-style wagon pulled by a team of horses. Every spring that field needed to be de-rocked. Later we went through the fields picking up the com missed by the pickers.

Talk about progress! I remember the cars we used to drive. Dad had an old "Whippet," that he had to crank to start it. Sometimes it was stubborn and took a lot of cranks. I remember him saying, "Choke it!" His arm would wear out and he would hit the car with the crank. We kids would say, "Oh, that's why it is called a Whippet." We had a Model A Ford that would get overheated as we were going somewhere, and Dad would jump out, dip water out of a ditch, put it in the radiator, and we would be on our merry way. Or we would have a flat tire and he would take out the patching kit. All of us got out and sat on the bank until he had it patched and put back on the car. There were cars on which the brakes had to be pumped before they would catch and hold. Deloris and I were allowed to drive to the truck patch from the time we were 12 years old. The truck patch was a bigger garden than the one near the house. It was in our field just down the lane from the house.

The car we have today has automatic lights. It decides for us when we need lights. If it starts to rain, the windshield wipers start automatically. If it gets icy, the traction mode comes on by itself It has an "On Star" tracking mode. In case we get lost, it tells us where we are and how to get to the nearest highway. If we are in an accident, our air bags inflate. If we do not respond to the inquiry, they send an ambulance immediately. Does it make you wonder what will be available to our grandchildren in a few years - surely things that would really shock us, or we can't even imagine?