While I was going to school I had a 1930 Chevy Convertible, and I remember my buddies helping me repair it. It had an out-of-round crankshaft that caused me to have to tighten the main bearings every once in awile. We turned it on its side, took the pan off, tightened the rods, set it back down and away we'd go. I think I gave $25 for it when we bought it. It might be worth a fortune today. I wish I had a model A Ford that I had while I was dating my wife. I sold it for $75 and bought her an engagement ring. Today that Model A would be worth a lot more than the engagement ring.

My main subject in high school was manual training and shop, but I also liked typing. After I graduated I mostly just ran around. I didn't have to work. My father was a projectionist at the theater and when he got sick I took over his job for six or eight months. That took me off the streets at night and I finally quit because I didn't like being curtailed.

I met Marjorie through my aunt. I was at my aunt's place laying a hardwood floor and she sent Marjorie to help me. We were both related to the aunt but not to each other. When we finished, I asked if she would like to go for a malt and a tenderloin, and we did. Our friendship took off from there. That was 64 years ago. I was 20 and she was 16. I was getting ready to go to the service and I thought we'd ought to get married before I went, so we eloped. We went to Grant City, Missouri. We had $10 when we left and $5 when we came back. We waited until she graduated before we told anybody because if you were married and in school, at that time they kicked you out. We picked Grant City, Missouri because we could drive there, and then we went to her grandmother's place where they were having a big dinner. They asked if we wanted dinner and we said, "No, we've already eaten." We actually were about starved to death and it was hard to turn that chicken down but we did.

They sent me to Africa and we landed in Africa and spent some time there. Then we boarded an LST and went to Italy, where we trained to make a landing on Anzio Beachhead. Our job was to keep communications open from ship to shore. So we were one of the first to land. We dug in, set up our communications and kept them going all the time we were in Anzio. The Beachhead was only about five miles square and at one time we thought we were going to get pushed off, but one morning wave after wave of American bombers came and annihilated the Germans. From then on it was smooth sailing.

They pulled us back and we went to Athens, Rome, bivouacked awhile and got ready for the landing in southern France. We landed on southern France on V-D ay and worked our way up through France, Geunany, Austria, and to the border of Switzerland. I was in the camp of Dachau. We were one of the first ones in there and it was a sight no one who has ever seen it will forget. There were trainloads of dead bodies and they were nothing but skeletons. There were piles of bodies along the track where they had dumped them. The furnaces were going and they were burning the bodies as fast as they could take them. There was also a plant where they kept the prisoners they were ready to put in the gas chambers. They told them they were going to take a shower. They would get them in there and gas them, then they would carry them out, run them through the furnace and burn them. The smell to this day I can still vividly recall. People say it didn't happen but I know it did because I was saw it.

When the war was over, we were taken to a staging camp and were in charge of prisoners until we got onboard the boat to come home. The most memoral thing I can think of was when I walked up the gangplank of that boat, Peggy Lee was singing "Sentimental Journey" and to this day that it my favorite song. I'm going to have it sung at my funeral.

It took us 30 days to go from the States on a freighter. Bunks were stacked one on top of the other about six high and you soon learned that you didn't want to be on a bottom bunk, because if somebody on top got sick everybody below suffered from it. I spent most of the nights on the forward bow of the boat on a blanket where I could get air. It is something to be on the boat at night and watch the wake from the bow of the ship. There are points that are luminous in the water and they would spray out and illuminate the water. That was something I hadn't known but it was almost like an electric light. At one time there was a submarine alert and they put some depth charges over the side. They really shook the boat and we didn't hear any more of the submarine. We had no problems from then on.

Lots of people got sick. I didn't get sick going over but coming back I got real sick. It was only about 15 days but when we got back it was so rough we couldn't get into the harbor in New York so we had to lay off the harbor. When the boat was just standing still rocking in the waves, was when I got sick. There is nothing like being seasick.

I came back to the staging area in New York, and of course I had a physical and we were issued a list of the material we could take home with us. I boarded the train and came to Des Moines. I called Marje and she met me on the bus. I met the bus and when she got off the bus, she looked so little! The women overseas were pretty good size and I was used to seeing them. It had been two years since I'd seen her. We could send letters back and forth that were called V-mail. We wrote the letter and they reduced it down in size until it was hardly readable, so it didn't take up much room to send it back. I still have one or two of those V-mails that I'd sent. It was the happiest day of my life when I got off the boat and was free. They wanted to keep me and do my teeth. "You need some fillings." I said, "I'll take care of them when I get home."

I started in business with my father who was an electrician and plumber. After several years I went to work for Ford Motor Company as their tune-up man. I worked there for a couple years. I had a chance to go to school on the GI bill, went to Chicago and took a course in refrigeration, and from that I got a job with Iowa Southern Utilities. I worked refrigeration and appliances for them for 33 years. In 1967, I was transferred to Creston and was put in charge of the engineering department for the western district. We started rebuilding power lines in cities. During the time I worked, I was in on rebuilding power lines in all the cities in our tenitory. I think there were 42 towns and 1800 miles of farm line. I got every bit of them rebuilt before I retired. One of the highlights of my career, they built a new building on the highway and the manager said, "You'll be down there one of these days," and I said, "No, I'm retiring. You'll never get moved in by the time I've retired." He said, "I'll bet you a case of beer you'll be down there." Well, two days before I was to retire, he fixed a pup tent and moved my office down to the tent. "I want that case of beer. You're down here working." When they had the retirement party for me they had it at Cromwell and I got to invite all the people I worked with and all my family and fiends. We had a kegger and the best party I think I ever had.

In Osceola I was president of Chamber of Commerce for awhile, I was Boy Scout and Cub Scout leader awhile, and in Creston I taught several classes at the college. One of them was Basic Electricity, another was Defensive Driving. I had a lot of fun with that. I even taught bus drivers from school, and they had to take the course before they could get their license to drive They also sent a representative from Iowa Southern's district over here to be taught defensive driving so he could go back and present it to their people.

I got involved in Toastmasters and I enjoyed that. We had a Liar's Contest one night and we all got up and told the biggest lie we could think of. When we finished everyone was supposed to write the name of who they thought was best, and my youngest son, who I think was 10, asked me. "How do you spell Persels?" I just about swatted him. Mr. Persels was my supervisor.

We were also involved in the church. I went through about all the offices of the church. I'd been a trustee, an elder, and a deacon. I'd been on the Finance Committee. But I'm mostly retired from all that now.

Marje and I have three children — Mike, Martha and Kirk. Mike is working at Moore's Music. I think he has worked there about 27 years. Martha lives in Osceola. Her husband is superintendent of schools and our youngest son, Kirk, is in Atlanta, Georgia. We go to see them once a year. One thing I remember about Mike: he was in the yard one day throwing darts at a tree. He missed the tree and the dart stuck in a bone in my back. I reached down and pulled it out. Our neighbors had two girls and when Mike was learning to ride a bicycle, he'd holler out, "You girls get up on the porch, Mike is learning to ride his bike."

We have five grandchildren. Martha and Ned have three daughters. One of them is a pre-school teacher in Corning, one is office manager in St. Jo, and the youngest will graduate from Southwest Missouri College in Maryville. We have a granddaughter and grandson in Atlanta, Georgia. They are younger. I just have one grandson. All the rest are girls.

The newest thing out now is rollers on shoes. Each heel of the shoe has a roller in it and the grandson was roller skating around on the hardwood floor. I couldn't imagine what he was doing. He took his shoe off and here he had rollers in the heels.

I retired in 1986. Marje retired a year ahead of that. She worked for General Telephone Company when I worked for Iowa Southern Utilities Company. When I retired, I couldn't just go home and sit down so I started in the lawn mowing business and I mowed lawns for five or six years. I had about 21 lawns. I bought a new mower each year. I made enough to buy a truck, trailer and mower and it was a real good business because I was the only one who picked up grass when I finished. Marje wanted to go places so she made me retire again in 1970, and we started to travel a little bit. We went up to Yellowstone Park, Washington, and down the coast to San Francisco. Last year or maybe two years ago, we took a cruise to Anchorage, which was beautiful. We didn't have to do anything but look out the porthole. For food, any time you want, day or night, you could get whatever you wanted to eat. I recommend it to everybody. We saw some eagles, I think there was some bear over on the shore. There had been a whale and porpoises but we didn't get to see any of them. We did get to see glaciers and lighthouses, which we hadn't seen before. And, of course, there were chunks of ice floating in the bay.

One thing that kind of amazed me as we docked, we looked out and all we could see was the piling at the water level. The next morning the tide had come in and we were looking out over the top of the town. When the tide came up, the variance was 40 feet. We flew from Minneapolis to Anchorage, and from there we took a bus to Stewart, got on board the boat and went back down to Vancouver. Of course we stopped at eve:iy little town along the way.

These little towns in Canada and Alaska have no doctors. They have to drive miles to get to a doctor so if a woman is going to have a baby, they have to start maybe a month ahead of time to get her to where she can be taken care of. There are real primitive towns along there.

The best bit of advice I can give is that in life you have to make a commitment. There are so many young people nowadays who don't want to make a commitment, especially to each other and without that commitment there will not be a happy, successful life — you have to have a common goal or it won't work. One thing about Marje and me, when we got married we made a commitment that whoever left first had to take the kids. Neither one of us wanted that so we are still together after 64 years.

At this time of life it is probably natural to reflect on its many segments and how many changes we have had and still do. I have had my life story recorded on a DVD, which would not have been imagined even a few years ago. I am enjoying my computer and its advantages over typewriters. I e-mail friends and family members every day, and if they happen to be online, I get an immediate response. The teletype that we depended upon so much in former days is now long gone but I still recall the day I read and reported to my superior, "The war is over!" He hadn't known that and at every reunion he reminds me of that incident. We move along. Marje and I keep up with what is happening. We went back to look at the house in Osceola, where we lived for 14 years. It looked so small! It is gone now, demolished to make room for the new Fareway Supermarket. And so many of our family and friends are gone! We have more on the other side than we do here, but we are very fortunate and look forward to what comes next.

Marje

When I reflect on my life, what strikes me most are the changes that have taken place between then and now. Nothing is the same, values or conveniences, beginning with my birth — not in a hospital, but I was born in the Decatur County farm home of my grandparent. My parents were Warren and Gladys Millsap. There was just a year and ten days between my older sister, Mildred, and me, so we were nearly as close as twins. She passed away with scarlet fever when she was 3 1/2 years old. I didn't take it, but her death nearly broke my mother's heart. She knew she would never have another pair. I had a brother Merlyn, and sister Shirley (Pennock).

There was something wonderful about growing up then. In contrast to a recent statistic that 80% of women in the work force, Mother was always home. When we came from school, there was always a good smell in the house. Mother had baked bread and cinnamon rolls or had a pot of soup cooking on the stove.

My father worked as a farm-hand. We lived east of Murray and he moved us into Clarke County when I was quite young. In those days, people moved on the first of March. It seems strange because it was usually horrible weather, and we went by wagon because roads weren't passable. But farm work determined several aspects of our lives and I suppose setting the March 1st tradition as the day to move was because farm planting season started soon afterward.

We had no conveniences. One place we lived, we had to carry all the water, and, reckoning distance by present standards, I suppose it would have been at least a block. We were very careful about its use. A dish pan was our sink, and Mother could peel potatoes in littlest dab of water in that pan. There was a water bucket for whoever was available to carry in the water. We noticed when we had company, they were very wasteful. From the time I was any age at all, I helped with the work around the house, and usually my brother and I brought in the water. We had what we called the slop bucket to carry out the garbage, like the potato peelings, to the edge of our yard. Disposals weren't even imagined at that time.

When I was five years old, ready to start to school, we still lived near Murray. Our house was just a quarter of a mile from the school house. I remember my mother was all set to walk with me to school the first day. My answer was, "I don't need anyone to take me to school," and I wouldn't let her go. Her feelings were hurt because she was just 20 years older than I. She was 25, all set to take her first darling to school and I wouldn't let her. I may have gotten over my independence but Sam doesn't think so.

What did I do when I got there? Did I just march onto the school ground? Did I stay out on the playground with the other children? I'm sure they were out there until the teacher rang the bell at 9:00. I really don't remember that part, only that nobody was going to take me.

We didn't have kindergarten. I went directly into first grade. Probably when I was about sixth grade, we moved to a farm down by Lacelle and had about a miles to walk to school, which was Troy #4. The teacher at that time was Clifford Gaumer — the only male teacher I had in elementary. I also went to a school in Knox township but I don't remember its number. There is nothing left of that anymore. Everything of every place I've ever lived has been torn down. I've outlived it all.

There was an incident at that school. Back then the schools weren't very large. There might have been 12 students. There were two boys, a 7th grader and an 8th grader and there were two girls in those grades. Those boys had picked on those two girls all school year. The first time they took after me I grabbed the older one and threw him on the ground and pinned him down. I didn't know until a number of years later that the teacher was so pleased I had done that. It put an end to those boys picking on the girls right then! I took care of that. Mr. Gaumer was also pleased I had taken care of that situation.

Lola Hunt was my teacher for 7th and 8th grade, and there was no better. At the end of the 8th grade, all the rural school kids had to pass a test in order to go on to high school. I was very upset because I never tested that well. Some people know the material but don't test well. I was one. However, I passed, and in the spring of 1939, I took part in the Clarke County 8th grade Graduation. It was for students in the entire county.

Because I missed kindergarten, I was 13 when I started to high school. I think of this when I come into contact with 13-year-old girls now. Our 13-year-old granddaughter is in a cotilion — I had to look it up to see what it was. She is in a choir in Atlanta, Georgia. They went by bus and sang at four different theme parks a few weeks ago. This summer she is going to Washington, D.C. with a science group. The opportunities they have now are wonderful! Sam and I have had more experiences than I ever thought we would. I remember reading about the Hoover Dam, probably about the time it was being built, never dreaming I'd ever see it. But we have been that way twice.

That is now, but at the time I was 13, we who lived out of town had to make arrangements for our schooling. I had a room across from the old football field, with the family of George Jones. I furnished my room. It wasn't very big and of course wasn't modern. I did my own cooking, and again I had to carry my water, but the well was closer. My father would bring me into town on Sunday nights, and come to get me on Friday nights, so I could be home for the weekend. I was given 25 cents a week for paper, pencils and those necessities. I didn't go to the drug store for malts or anything like that.

I lived in that room the first year, and then my parents began farming for themselves. My second year I worked for room and board because my parents could no longer afford to pay 25 cents a week for the room. I lived with the Jim Wade's and worked for my room through my sophomore and junior years. At that time, Anne was three and Jimmie was six or seven. Anne was a curly-headed child, the cutest little person I'd ever seen.

For my senior year I went to the Bond's, who had Bond's Jewelry Store on the square in Osceola, at 119 West Washington, where Mall Beary is now (in 2008). We were "shirttail relations." My grandmother and Mr. Bond were first cousins. They lived in an apartment above the store. I don't think we paid them cash, but I cleaned their apartment, and Mother would bring in meat and things from the farm. They were very good to me.

That was where Mr. Ketcham and I became acquainted. He was related to Mrs. Bond and I was related Mr. Bond, who was deceased at that time. We went together for maybe six months and were married in September during my senior year. It was 1942, the Pearl Harbor attack had happened on December 7, 1941, and we were at war. It made perfect sense to us to be married then because Mr. Ketcham was going into the service. We were married in Missouri but didn't tell anyone because at that time anyone being in school and married was frowned on.

Again, contrasting then and now, I'd have a spell if a 16-year-old of our family married. But consider the difference. I was more mature because of my responsibilities. I had basically been on my own since I was 13. I did my own housekeeping, I got myself to school. The Jones family lived near Roosevelt Boulevard and, of course, I walked to school. I never missed because of the weather. I had overshoes, and when it snowed, I went down the road and around the round barn — the old sale barn east of where the high school used to be. We didn't expect transportation. We went where we needed to go on our own.

I graduated in May 1943. Sam was already in California, so I went out by train alone to join him. At 17. Sam's father said if I was his daughter he wouldn't have let me go, but they came down with my parents to see me off. I think back to how inexperienced I was in the ways of the world. I don't think I'd ever been out of the state of Iowa until then. We didn't travel in those days. My parents never had a vacation. We didn't have enough money to even think about those things, but I never felt underprivileged. Granted that some had more than we did, but it is a pretty general statement that everybody else was about in the same boat as we. Maybe that is what made us survivors. That was a plus along with our work ethic. How can we pass that along to our children?

The day I arrived in California, Sam moved from the camp where he'd had his training to Davis, California. The rest of his war experiences are in the second Osceola Veterans' Book.

When Sam came home from the service in 1946, we lived in town, on highway 34, at 116 West McLane, where Warren Keeler's live today. We had automatic heat and running water, which were wonderful, but there was a Mr. Buckingham who had a house down by Smyrna, south of Woodburn. We looked at it, bought it, and had a guy move it from there to Ayers street. We dug the basement, knocked off plaster and rebuilt it. It was our first home, and it is still standing. Mike was born there in 1950.

We lived there from 1946, until we moved to Cass Street. The brother of Clarice Baird, who was Osceola's librarian, built that house for her in 1926, and it was a good solid house. We were the second family to live in it. That is where Martha was born in 1953, and we still lived there when Kirk was born in 1957.

We moved from the house on Cass Street, but we came back to have a last look at it before it was torn down to make room for the new Fareway Store in 2008. We paid $10,000 for that house, and that was a lot of money at the time we bought it, but they sold it to Fareway for $85,000. Of course they were interested in the lot.

Giving birth was different, too. Clarke County Hospital delivered babies and when Kirk was born, we went in the middle of the night. The nurses hadn't called Dr. Bristow, and Kirk arrived before the doctor. Before I was out of the delivery room I told Dr. Bristow, "I did this all by myself. I think you need to split the fee with me." "I will," he said, "I always do." So Kirk cost us $37.50. Dr. Bristow was a good friend. Their boy, Bart, and our son, Mike, were the same age, and chummed around together.

Our children were wonderful, of course, and each their own person. If we asked Mike to do something, he would say, "No" and not do it. We always knew how Mike felt about everything. With Kirk, we either didn't get an answer or he would say he would but wouldn't. Martha was a typical little dainty girl. She didn't go through the teen-age bit like children now. The big talk now related to behavior or moods is blamed on hormones. I didn't even know I had any. My mother would have taken care of the situation.

When our children misbehaved, we would send them upstairs to their rooms. Mike would scream all the way up the stairs. When he settled down, he came back. Martha just went out of the room and sat on the bottom step. She would close the door and we didn't know if she went upstairs or not. By the time the third one came, we didn't pay much attention. He just sort of slipped around. That was a fun time but I'd not want to go back and do it again. We had many more conveniences than formerly but it was still a lot of work to keep a house and the family. The poem about the family wash brought back memories:

From the time he was 10 years old, Mike was always involved with his guitar. We thought the first word he said was, "Car," but he says it was "guitar." Martha was a homebody. She always helped me. Kirk was never in real good health. He had rheumatic fever and lots of allergies. That made his activities a little different than Mike's. Mike liked camping. He and his friends even camped in the back yard. It was always amazing to me that they could be arguing and fighting, and three minutes later it was over and they were friends again. Girls can't do that. Girls hang on to things like that — sometimes for the rest of their lives. The Christian Church was pretty central in our children's upbringing. I taught 3rd grade Sunday School and also taught in Bible School.

The years went past. Our children are now grown, of course. We are living in Creston. Mike is working at Moore's Music, where I think he has been for about 27 years. He has also become an outstanding photographer. He has been asked to display his work at the State Capitol Building for a Parkinson's Disease project. Martha lives in Osceola. Her husband is superintendent of schools and our youngest son, Kirk, is in Atlanta, Georgia. We go to see them once a year.

Martha and Ned have three daughters. One of them is a pre-school teacher in Corning, Iowa; one is an office manager in St. Jo, and the youngest will graduate from Southwest Missouri College in Maryville. Kirk teaches music, and his wife, Sherry, is the head accountant in an international marketing firm. Their children are our granddaughter and grandson, now in Atlanta but they are in the process of moving to Overland Park, Kansas. Their son is our only grandson, all the rest are girls. We have five grandchildren and are expecting great-grandchildren. Our two granddaughters are expecting babies a month apart, so Sam is making baby beds and I am making quilts.

Working has always been a natural way of life for me. During the time Sam was overseas, I lived with his parents and worked in the courthouse in the welfare office (currently Department of Human Services). I worked until March when Mike was born. Then I wanted to stay home and be a mother. After 15 years, in 1965, I went to work for General Telephone. I began part-time for $1 an hour, filling in two nights a week while Mabel Hayes had time off. When we moved to Creston, I applied for a job at Creston Mutual Telephone but the Chief Operator told me she never hired anyone from out of town. We didn't move until May when school was out, but in April she called my Chief Operator, Mildred Patterson, and said, "That lady — have her come in to see me." I understand she had 20-some girls quit. I went to work about a week after we moved. After awhile, General Telephone bought them and I was working for them again. By the time I retired in 1985, I was Chief Operator, and had earned my 20-year retirement, for which the benefits are fantastic.

Sam retired the following year and we have done some traveling. We have been to Yellowstone Park, Washington, and down the coast to San Francisco. Several years ago we took a cruise to Anchorage. But we have a wonderful time just enjoying life. We have time to visit our children, pursue our hobbies, or just sit and watch nature, as illustrated in the following story:

THE FAMILY OF GEESE

We are fortunate to live near a pond where the geese come in. We have a tire on a raft, which is anchored in the middle of the pond, and have put straw in it. We don't know where the geese winter, but they come March 1st before the ice is off the pond. They stay around until the ice is off then lay their eggs. Each year there is a pair of geese that come back and nest there and raise their babies. We know they are the same ones because the female has a limp. The mother goose lays her eggs one a day. In our nest there are usually six or seven. They are about like little bumble bees when they first hatch — just little fuzz balls. They grow so fast! They aren't as pretty when they have grown a little.

When the mother goose is through laying eggs she sits on the nest. The father stays fairly close by and watches over her day and night. She comes off the nest occasionally, presumably to stretch and find some food. It takes 28 days for the eggs to hatch — you can almost put it on the calendar and watch it happen. Within just a few hours, she kicks the babies out of the nest and leads them directly into the water. They can swim when they first hit the water. A duck can't do that. A duck will drown. The family never goes back to the nest. The next day the mother goose walks them around the pond.
We put out corn out for them to eat. While they are eating, either the mother or father stands watch. One day a fox came down and tried to get one of the little ones and that papa goose took him down the road like you wouldn't believe. The fox was no match for that goose!

As soon as the mother goose lays her eggs she loses all her wing feathers so she can't fly until she has the young ones raised. By that time, her feathers have grown back so she can fly with them.

There is a tunnel near us that runs underneath the railroad tracks. At the appropriate time, the parents take the little ones through the pipe to McKinley Lake, the parents going one in front, one in back, and those little goslings are in the straightest row you ever did see. The parents finish raising them down there.

One year they stayed and raised them on our pond. There was a day when I went out to feed them when one was squawking and flopping around at the edge of the pond. All the others were gathered around watching I took hold of it, pulled it up and discovered a turtle had him by the leg. I wondered how I was going to get rid of that turtle. I got my pocket knife out and was going to stick the knife in the turtle's head. He let go right now. The goose took off and flew across the lake but the mama and papa stayed around me. They weren't afraid of me at all.

There is a group of us who gather and watch all this. It is one of the multitude of wonders of creation.

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