Recipes for Living Stan and Lenore Stickler

Lenore begins the story: I was always teased about being "comfortable in the kitchen" because I was born on the kitchen table December 10, 1920. My father went out with a bob sled and team of horses to meet the doctor and his nurse in a terrible snow storm. The horses became exhausted and had to be replaced before they reached our home, the Woodbine Stock Farm of Taintor, Iowa. It was between Pella and New Sharon and was a small town even then. We have been back recently and discovered there is now just one commercial building that houses a lumber yard, hardware store, bank, post office and convenience store, although the State Banking Commission was contesting the bank being under the same roof as the rest of the stores.

My father, Leland Lunt, was the oldest of three children. My uncle Gordon was two years younger and four years later a sister, Arloine (Ar-lo-een), was born. She became quite a character and was called the Hedda Hopper of Des Moines because she never went out the door, even to get the mail, without wearing her hat and gloves. When she died, Stan and I cleared out what she called her "hat room" and took a pickup load of large hats to the Des Moines Playhouse. They were delighted! She had been employed in the fingerprint division of the FBI but quit to go to work at Younkers-in the downtown store, before there were such things as malls-because she liked their perfume. She was their perfume sales-lady for years.

The parents made many sacrifices to educate the children. They attended Pella, Iowa, junior college and all three graduated from Central College. Gordon went on to get his degree as a civil engineer, served in the Navy in World War I, and eventually became president of the bridge department of Pittsburg Des Moines Steel Company until he retired. Arloine married a doctor.

Gordon had the rare gift of foresight. After he retired he studied stocks and some that he bought are still good today-AT & T, Bell Telephone that has by now split seven ways, IBM, Sun Banks in Florida-these are still good. Our family has said Gordon could make it; Aroline could spend it. One day when I was visiting with him, he said, "Lenore, I won't see it in my lifetime. You might. But there will be a time when there won't be a Florida or California." That was 50 years ago and there have been some indications that it might come true.

My father had aspirations to become a veterinarian but, before classes began, my grandfather died very suddenly. Being the oldest, my father felt it was his duty to manage the home place, which not only had acres of row crop but the farm was well known for registered Hereford cattle. He was drafted into the army in World War I. Before he left, he gave his steady girl friend, Muriel Jarard, a diamond. When the war ended, he was discharged from Camp Meade, Maryland, with $14 traveling money to get to New Sharon, Iowa. Muriel and Lelandwere married shortly after his return and they continued with Woodbine Farm operations.

There were six children in my mother's family. Her father, J.C. Jarard, raised pure bred Clydesdale horses, which gives an explanation to why we were always referred to as "horsey people." My grandfather usually went to Scotland by boat every two years, to purchase his stallions, which sired animals that Anheuser-Busch purchased for their lead horses on the 12- horse wagon-hitch. To this day when I see the holiday TV commercial and the huge, graceful animals, their heavy feet in unison crossing the country bridge, I have goose bumps!

Grandmother Jarard died when she was only 51 years of age. Grandfather could not accept her death and, in a short time, he joined her.

The three Jarard boys, my uncles, sold the Clydesdale horses, and the St. Louis 12-horse-hitch hired John, the eldest, to drive the team. He was so proud! During World War II, with his lineman, who kept all the reins in order, and the ever present Dalmatian dog, they toured all 48 states, Canada and Mexico. All those who purchased a war bond were granted a ride on the big wagon.

Much to my disappointment, I was an only child and attended Lunt Country School, which usually had 10-12 students, all of whom were Dutch. I have memories of sitting around the coal stove that was in the center of the room. In the winter time wet mittens were drying and a pot of soup or hot chocolate was heating for our lunch.

One incident has lingered in my memory all these years. The teacher had a two-year Normal Training certificate and was barely older and was smaller than some of the students. She was hired by my father, who was the director, and roomed and boarded at our house. She had the approval of the school district for her ability as a good teacher.

The students were expected to wash the blackboard, clean the erasers, daily bring in a fresh bucket of water, which contained a dipper from which we all drank, bring in wood and coal and empty the ashes. The flag was flown daily, weather permitting, and taken down before the close of the day. On the day that is etched in my mind, the teacher asked one of the bigger boys to put up the flag. Instead he threw it on the ground and stepped on it. She explained that no one treated the flag in this manner and before she could continue, he slapped her sharply.

It was in the fall of the year and I had only started in first grade, but I knew the situation was not going to improve. I ran as fast as I could to the nearby field where my father was picking corn by hand. He tied the horses to the fence and the two of us ran back to the schoolhouse, where the young man sat with a smirk on his face. My father asked him to stand and he refused, but my father remedied that and gave him a lecture I am sure he never forgot. The boy was reminded that he was looking at a veteran who had fought for his country and the flag of red, white and blue. He was instructed to put the flag on the pole immediately and to do so with respect whenever the teacher so instructed, or "you will answer to me!" No more problems.

My father was an invalid for years. He had malta fever, which they thought he got from animals and a veterinarian from the federal government tested every animal on the farm. It affected his lungs and he had to be kept on oxygen. He ran such a high fever that he had to be packed in ice. These, plus the constant loving care of my mother, who refused to put him in a nursing home, were all that kept him alive. He had been a large man but his illness reduced him to skin and bones and, when he died, he weighed 70 pounds.

Losing my father and, shortly thereafter my husband, Walt Langfitt at age 42, I leaned heavily on prayer and my faith in God. I had to stand tall and pray for strength, health and courage; for I had to provide for my children: Marilee, who was enrolled at Iowa University, Luanne in high school, and Brian only 11 years of age.

One thing that tragedy did for us was to make us a close-knit family, and we have remained so. At this time, two of the children are in Colorado and one in Las Vegas. We are blessed with four grandsons and one granddaughter.

We had a General Motors dealership and a contract that wouldn't be permitted today. It stipulated that a widow could continue the business one year, no longer. I did that and had the help of very good employees to whom I give much credit for a successful year. After that I went to work at Skirt and Shirt (now Shoes 'N Shirts) for four different owners and enjoyed it very much.

Stan and I have had a wonderful life--we laugh together and have cried together. I leaned heavily on Stan when my mother battled Alzheimer’s disease for 12 1/2 years. I hope and pray this is a disease scientists and doctors can find help for-not only for the victims but the families of victims.

I suppose one of the most devastating experiences of our marriage was the fire which destroyed our home on June 10th, 1991. In such a situation you feel so helpless-there is not a single day that you do not wonder where this or that is and suddenly realize--oh, yes, it burned in the fire! A lot of keepsakes no longer exist but, as the State Fire Marshall said, had the fire started in the middle of the night, we would no longer be here.

We were overwhelmed by the support of the entire community. Believe me; it gives you strength to go forward. We accept the experience as a bad dream (maybe even a nightmare) but we are very happy in our new modular home. Life goes on.

Stan and I wondered about retirement years. I can only say we have never been busier in our lives. If we aren't at home, we probably are at some body of water fishing or doing volunteer work. We find ourselves helping all ages of people from school children to Senior Citizens. I have a list of people whom I telephone to check on every day. I have worked as a volunteer in the Clarke County Hospital Gift Shop for many years and served on the board for the Hospital Auxiliary. I help with blood drives and cholesterol screening; I’ve served on the Board of Directors for American State Bank, besides other activities that Stan and I do together. Yes, it is tiring but at day's end, there is a good feeling-perhaps someone's day has been brighter because of what we have done, and it is a great prescription for getting our minds off our own aches and pains.

I was born October 16, 1925, in a Dr. Sell's house on Fillmore Street south of highway 34. I was born in a snow storm and Dr J. Hellenbeck, who preceded Dr. Stroy, came in a horse drawn sleigh to deliver me. My parents owned a restaurant on the south side of the square, at 134 West Jefferson.

In 1930, during the Depression, the folks lost our home and the restaurant when the Simmons Bank closed. Grandfather Stickler had started a savings account for me in the same bank. The amount had grown to $771.01. That, too, was lost. It is a shocking experience to know that everything you had worked for and saved was suddenly wiped out and there was no choice but to start over.

We moved from Osceola to a settlement by the name of Delray in Decatur County. This was a very small settlement four miles north of Decatur City on a narrow gauge railroad between Van Wert and Grand River City. The Redman brothers had a hog buying station there. Cream and eggs were also picked up by the train and sent to a nearby produce station.

I went to a country school of 18 kids. There was a family of Indians who lived on Long Creek. They wore head bands with a feather. There were two boys almost as old as the teacher and every month the truant officer would tell them they had to go to school until they were through the 8th grade. So they would go three or four days, then drop out until the truant officer caught them again. There was another family that had four boys. Three of them were older than the teacher. They gave her lots and lots of problems.

We farmed there from 1930 to 1933, when we moved back to Clarke County to a farm located six miles south of Osceola on Highway 69. This farm had been homesteaded by my great grandfather who emigrated from Germany. He would have been one of the early settlers, but I never knew him.

My cousin, Lynn Stickler, recently picked up a bit of family history. Our grandfather, George Stickler homesteaded a wheat farm in Hill City, Kansas, in about 1885. They lived in a sod house tucked back into a bluff. Today we would call it an earth house. After several years of drought he put the family in a covered wagon and came back to the farm six miles south of Osceola. When one of our aunts married, she went back to Hill City. A cousin died recently and Lynn went to the funeral. They were disposing of baskets of pictures and, as Lynn looked through them, he recognized a picture of me with my grandfather. He retrieved it and gave it to me. This is the only picture we had of my grandfather and me as a small child and I was happy to get it. However, along with everything else, it burned in our fire.

Young people would have trouble imagining what it was like to be a child in those years, but I am grateful to have lived then. The experience taught some great lessons. There was no TV or computers to occupy our time and I learned to be alert to opportunities. One time when calves were worth practically nothing, I bought two veal calves, raised them, sold them for $75 and found a car to buy for that amount of money.

Money was scarce but I always had some because I learned to make the best of what I had. One year all got for Christmas was a pocket knife but with it I learned to whittle and develop woodworking skills. I had a trap line and used the knife to skin the animals. I remember a day when I was asked to leave country school because I had encountered a skunk. I stretched hides to take to town to sell and had more money than my parents for groceries and necessities

We learned to take responsibility and had pride in the knowledge that what we did contributed to the family's well-being. In spring and summer I rode my pony and searched the timber and fence rows for wild gooseberries, dew berries, raspberries, strawberries or anything else my mother could can. She was not able to go because of hay fever.

We always butchered our own meat. Mother put sausage in a two-gallon crock and cooked it in the oven of the stove that was fueled by wood and com cobs. It was my responsibility to keep the wood-box filled. When the sausage cooled, lard would form on the top. My mother put an inverted plate on the crock, secured it by a clean rock, and the lard was used as we now use one of the products such as Crisco. Readers who lived during that period will recognize Lewis Lye, used to make soap, which my mother contended was the best there ever was for grease and grass stains.

My father had served and been injured in World War I. He had shrapnel throughout his body and it was all removed except for that which was too close to the heart. This surely contributed to his having a heart attach which caused us to move to a smaller farm two miles east of Osceola in March of 1943. I graduated from Clarke County High School in May of that year.

I enlisted in the United States Army Air Force at the age of 17 and was told that they would call me when reached 18, but a week later was on my way to Shepherd Field, Texas. I Spent 2 ½ years in the Air Force as a pilot, received my Wings and Lieutenant's Commission March 1, 1945, and was discharged in November, 1945.

I have a younger sister, Janiece, who was two- years-old when I left to go into the service. She started working for Bell Telephone after graduation from high school. She married and moved to Arizona where she still works for the same company.

I moved back home after World War II and started wiring farms when REA was putting electricity throughout the countryside. My family moved to 209 South Adams in Osceola in 1946. Every Sunday morning neighbor "Ward Reynoldson and I would go fishing and bring back a whole bucket of fish. My mother cleaned them, regardless of what they were, and took them up and down the street to give away. I took fish to Lyle Cobun for years until his death.

In March, 1948, I opened the Stickler Plumbing and Electric, later Stickler TV, at 108 East Jefferson and spent 43 years at the same location. My father died in the same year that I began my business; my mother, Eunice passed away in 1974. She will be remembered by many people for the babysitting she did in the later years of her life.

Lenore and I were married in 1976. She contends that I married her because I wanted to live in the country and have a pond stocked with bass and crappies. I guess you could say that we are both "doers" and want to remain so, not sit and deteriorate physically and/or mentally in our retirement.

We both became interested in the Osceola Senior Center and serve on the Board. Knowing my interest in woodworking and knowledge of "fix it" repairs, they give me an opportunity to use those skills often. Both of us have been on the eight-county Area on Aging Committee that meets monthly in Creston. I am on the Osceola City Zoning Review Board.

We feel home-delivery meals are so important as a way of helping people remain in their homes; but, in addition, those who receive them regularly know that someone will be at their door and the time to expect us. The Center sends out about 70 meals each day. We take 25-30 and many of the people we take to are standing at the door when we arrive. We are well enough acquainted with the route and the people that we can make our deliveries in about 45 minutes. We know whether to go to the front door or back, whether to knock or go in. It is a great experience for us as well as for them.

We have a lovely Dalmatian dog that we take to the Rehabilitation Center once a month. He is such a gentle dog that people truly enjoy him and we can trust him enough to encourage them to pet him. He also knows some tricks that he will do for a reward of treats.

For 20 years, sometime before school dismisses each May, we have the pleasure of helping 3rd graders have a day of "Fishing on East Lake." Later we added 4th graders as well. I usually provided rods and reels, fish worms and volunteer helpers until Zebco gave the local Conservation Board 25 rods and reels. While one group fishes, volunteer workers take others on nature walks, bird watching, etc.

For the past two years, with the help of Anita Foland, we designed and made a "big fish" from a barrel. Children who have never handled a fishing rod can practice casting with a plug. Local merchants have been most cooperative with prizes for all. A candy bar, can of pop, a movie rental, or the like always bring smiles to the children's faces.

I am active in the veteran's programs and American Legion Hall. On days of commemoration, we have a hand in decorating the veteran's graves. There are over 600 and we put small American flags on them, designating which war they were in. There are approximately 70 from the Civil War, a few from the Spanish-American War in which Lloyd Thurston fought. There are graves from other wars: Revolutionary, World War I, World War II, Korean and Vietnam. The most recent person to be honored was Bayard Shadly.

We also assist with the Avenue of Flags. There are 160 big flags to put in holes that are about three feet deep. Last November the holes were full of ice and we had to wait until noon when the sun came out and melted it. When there is wind and rain, it is quite a challenge, and, when the day is past, if it has rained and the flags are wet, they must be put out to dry before they can be stored.

It is beyond us to understand why some of the flags have been stolen. Murray has also had this happen. We can only conclude this is a different day and people have not been brought up to respect what we did. Decorating family's graves, such as we do with wreaths every year, seems also to be going out of vogue. In fact, sometimes even those are taken. After Walt's service there were two women brazenly taking flowers from the fresh grave, saying they wanted some fresh roses.

We help the Eagles' Lodge, also, whenever we can. You might find us serving in the dining room or doing kitchen detail or delivering Thanksgiving dinners. Many times I can help with repairs on speakers or other parts of the public address system or TVs.

Lenore and I both enjoy making quilts. I have designed several of our quilt patterns on my computer. When our children, grandchildren, and now one great granddaughter come to visit they scramble to choose a quilt for their own bed. Another way the computer comes into use is sending get well, sympathy or other cards in the name of the Senior Center.

We so enjoy the freedom of being in the country, picnics, hikes in the timber, fleeting glimpses of deer, fox and wild turkeys1 -all blessings of God; and conclude that it is a wonderful world we live in!