RILMA MULLER
The information in the introduction to Rilma's story is taken from the write-up about the family, which was placed in the time capsule of the Clarke County Courthouse:
In 1848, Robert Jamison, the first permanent settler of Clarke County and great grandfather of Rilma Muller, left Washington County, Indiana with his family and his brother-in law, John Kyte, traveled the Ohio River by steamboat to St. Louis, Missouri; and proceeded on the Mississippi River to Keokuk, Iowa. Their only belongings were bedding and dishes, which were packed in a large corner cupboard, and $14 in cash with which Robert hired a man with his ox team to take them to the first place where they settled, 1 1/2 miles north of Albia, Iowa. Unable to get clear title to the land, Robert sold his claim and, with his wife, Christina, two sons, John and Lewis, along with John Kyte, headed home.
In the autumn of 1849, Robert and John Kyte again came west. Traveling along the Mormon Trail, they discovered an area of fertile, well-drained prairie only a stone's throw to the south from the Chariton River. To the homesteader, wood and water were very important commodities, which would be provided by the river and its heavily forested bottom land. They immediately staked their claims in Section 19, Franklin Township of Clarke County, and returned home again for the winter.
In the spring of 1850, Robert Jamison and John Kyte, with their families, settled on their claims. At that time there were two Mormon families living in Green Bay Township and a Mr. Wilson living in Franklin Township. The Mormon families soon moved on and Mr. Wilson moved to Lucas County, making Robert Jamison the first permanent settler in Clarke County. In May, he purchased 160 acres from the U.S. Government for $1.25 an acre.
Sod crops, raised in 1850, and yielded 40 bushels of corn per acre, which Robert sold for $1-$1.50 a bushel to emigrants passing through bound for Salt Lake City, Utah and California. To supplement this meager income, Robert split rails for settlers who were beginning to move in. This provided for the family, which consisted of his wife, Christina Kyte Jamison, six sons and three daughters. They soon became quite comfortable, with a well-improved and well-stocked farm under cultivation. In 1855, they built a large, two-story frame house just southwest of their
log cabin, and, in 1867, a large barn across the road. They planted a large orchard and added
additional land until the farm totaled 380 acres. Robert became the first school commissioner
elected in Clarke County and served on the County Board of Supervisors.
The second generation of Jamisons to own the farm was the youngest son of Robert and Christina, Thomas B. Jamison. He and his wife, Ella Hall Jamison, purchased the farm in 1902. They were the parents of two sons, Charles Sumner and Robert Ashton Jamison. Tom and the two sons continued to farm together until Tom's death in 1936.
The third generation to own the farm was Charles Sumner and Robert Ashton Jamison. Charles Sumner never married. In 1924, Ashton and Neva Kelley, Rilma's parents, were married and built a new home west of the old farmstead. They raised five children and continued to farm until 1958, when Raymond D. Jamison, the fourth child born to Ashton and Neva, moved into the family home. He married Shirley Moore and they became the fourth generation to live on the farm, which they rented unti1 1964, when they purchased 280 acres from Sumner and Ashton.
Ray and Shirley have three children: Gary Ray, James Dean and Penny Sue. They represent the fifth generation who have lived on the farm that now totals 720 acres. At the present time James D. shares the work load. He has three children-Janelle, Jeffrey and Jared. The sixth generation children live only several miles away, so they spend much time at the farm.
All the Jamisons have belonged to the Methodist Church, now United Methodist Church, and to the Republican Party. They have been active in the community, serving as Underground Railroad Director, County Supervisor, School Commissioner, World War Bond Chairman, Telephone Company officer, ASCS Township commissioner, REC board member, County Zoning committeeman and Masonic Lodge officer.
Other direct descendants of this branch of the Jamison family are: fourth generation grand daughter Rilma Muller, fifth generation granddaughter, Ronda Wishon, and sixth generation grandson Drew Wishon all of Osceola. Fifth generation grandson Eric Muller lives in Urbandale; fifth generation granddaughter Roberta Nienhueser, and sixth generation grandson, Benjamin Nienhueser in Alma, Missouri. Fifth generation Gary Ray Jamison and sixth generation granddaughter, Christin Jamison, live in the Osceola area and fifth generation granddaughter Penny Sue Jamison lives in Des Moines.
Two family treasures, brought by ox-cart to Clarke County, are the corner cupboard, still used by Raymond and Shirley Jamison, and a 1936 John Deere tractor purchased new at LeRoy Implement by Ashton Jamison. It has been restored by Raymond and his brother, Bob, now deceased. It remains on the family farm and is often seen in area parades.
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I was born Feb. 11, 1940, in Osceola at what the family is amused to remember was Bates Sanitarium, which became Dr. Harken's hospital. I was the youngest of the two girls and three boys born to Robert Ashton and Neva Jamison. A few days before I was born there had been a tremendous snowstorm and neighbors set about shoveling the roads in case my parents would
have to get to the hospital. It turned out fine but is worth the mention because that was the
nature of neighborliness in those days. What a contrast to these days when neighbors often hardly know one another.
In the years when we were growing up, there was play as well as work. Our playground was the hay mow, where we played Tarzan and everything else. But there was also plenty of work to be done with the garden and farming. I always wanted to be outside instead of in the house, which probably disappointed my mother. With that large a family, we raised almost all our food. From our orchard we had apples, pears, peaches, plums and strawberries. During the summer Mother canned what we didn't eat. It required sugar, of course, which was rationed. I remember one time when she had stamps enough to buy 100# of sugar at Hyde's grocery on the south side of the square, which became Hy-Vee and was at that location until they moved to West McLane. That is, actually, about all I remember of the war-ration stamps and the fact that we couldn't go anywhere because of tires, which were collected, ground up and made into new tires, as part of the "war effort."
I was baptized as an infant in the Hebron Methodist Church, which was a little over a mile west of the family farm. That is also where I will be buried, which will complete a full circle in several ways. Eventually the church closed and was torn down. The ground was used to expand the cemetery and our stone, already set, is practically over the spot where I was baptized.
In addition to her other duties, Mother was a school teacher and so it was natural for our parents to emphasize education and responsibility. Our father was a kind man. He wasn't the disciplinarian of the household. I don't remember him ever spanking, whereas Mom not only switched us when we needed it, but used to make us go down to the willow grove and get our own switch. And sometimes we needed it.
For instance, I was a tomboy and liked to follow my brothers. They would go to the creek at the back of our land to go fishing and, when I started to follow them, they’d make me go back home. One time, when I got to the top of the hill, I saw them fighting a grass fire. They had been trying to light corn silk cigarettes. I threatened to tell Dad but never did. However, about a week later, Dad said, "I didn't realize lightning had struck so close. I found a big patch of burned grass in the pasture." He looked at all of us and we knew that he knew but never said another word.
There was a time when the boys were roping a cow and talked me into tying the rope around my waist. I couldn't get untied until I had been dragged all around the barn lot. The cow went through a fence and the rope came loose. I was badly skinned. Mom had big bottle of Germtrol, which was a remedy probably found in most homes. It was a product of Watkins or Fuller Brush or one of the other companies whose salesmen made regular calls on farm families. This happened on a Saturday afternoon and I was so skinned up that nobody got to go to town that night.
My brother Ray and a neighbor boy taught me to ride a bike. I had been trying to learn and their method was to take me to the top of a big hill about quarter of a mile from the house where they gave one big push and, by the time I got to the bottom, I was riding the bike.
Going to town Saturday night was the biggest event of our lives. We looked forward to it all week. If we were real lucky, we got 15¢ and could go to the movie. There were two movie houses in those days, one where the theater is presently, and one where Dr. Lower's office is located now. Most of the movies were westerns with Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers, and Gene Autry or others, but it wouldn't have made any difference. We got to go and that was all that mattered.
I went to Fairview #3 country school until they closed it when I was in 3rd grade and we went to LeRoy consolidated. The thing I remember about country school is recesses. I remember that we had a big bully who caused my brother to break his arm, and one day he tripped me and broke my arm. We always walked to school and, when it came time to go home, my arm was so swollen that the teacher couldn't get my coat on. She sent one of the boys to get Dad, who had to come on the tractor because of mud roads. So I rode home on the tractor and Dr. Harken was called. His son Dwight, who had become a very famous heart surgeon in the days before it became a perfected and more common operation, was with him. Dr. Dwight said it had been years since he had set a broken arm, but he set my arm that day.
I lived in the wonderful days when many things we now take for granted were new. I was seven-years-old when we got electricity. We came home on the school bus and there sat a refrigerator! We could have ice! It was a bigger deal than lights. The first television I ever saw was probably in Allen’s' Electric Store on the south side of the square. On Saturday evenings they put a TV set in their display window and there would be a whole crowd of people standing around watching wrestling or maybe the Sid Caesar show.
When our school closed, because of our location we could have gone either to Osceola or LeRoy, but I consider that the choice of LeRoy gave me some true advantages because in a small school all of us had the opportunity to be in everything. I worked on the annual, was in chorus, played basketball-everything! My classmates all through school became my closest friends, and they still are. Had I been in Osceola, I probably wouldn't have had a chance to develop my talents.
My biggest love was playing basketball. My position was post forward, which wouldn't be recognizable to current players. We had six-member teams in those days, three guards and three forwards. We played all the small schools around us and there was a lot of rivalry. Garden Grove was our particular "rival" and we would visit each other's town and do all sorts of what was then harmless mischief. One time we gathered all the pop and beer cans we could find and put them clear up around the stop sign. In those days it didn't make any difference. All the drivers knew the sign was there.
My older sister and brother went to school in Osceola. There were no buses so they roomed with my cousin, Enid Kendall. Because my sister was 12 years older, and my brother nine years older than I, and the fact that they were gone from home so much earlier than normal, I didn't have a close relationship with them. I can believe that my not having been born until my parents were in their 40's, and siblings older, and the way the economy was, I was probably a mistake but nobody ever made me feel like it.
My middle brother, Russel, joined the Marine Corps shortly after high school and was a career service man. He had two tours in Vietnam and was blessed to have come through those unscathed. He retired with the rank of Colonel. He now has rheumatoid arthritis and what with the limitations that affliction causes and living just outside of Washington D.C., except for occasional visits for special events through the years and even now, we have never been real well acquainted. We talk on the phone but he was never a close part of the family.
I have been very close to my brother Ray, who was nearest my age and the last to live around here. He had known but hadn’t dated his wife, Shirley, until he came back from the service, but she was my best friend all through high school. So my best friend is also my sister-in law.
While my brothers were in the service, I helped Dad and did everything all farm boys ever could have done-milking cows, putting up hay, plowing or whatever the season called for. That was fine with me. Remember that I was a tomboy and as long as I was outside it was o.k. with me. The one indoor responsibility I had during the school year was to have supper at least started by the time mother got home from teaching. I didn't like even that.
The year I was 16, I went to Wisconsin to stay with my sister and worked in a Van Camps cannery. I was so naive! I didn't even know there were such big factories, let alone that I would be working in one. I made $1.25 an hour. When I graduated, my mother wanted me to go on to college but they were retiring from the farm and I felt it would be such a burden that I went to
Des Moines and got a job with an insurance company. I roomed with three girls I'd gone to school with, who also worked in Des Moines, and we learned to ride the street car to work.
Because she was so much older than I, by the time I really remember my sister, she was out of school and teaching. She had taken a Normal Training course and was eligible to teach right out of high school. She married and moved to Wisconsin. She and her husband had four children. While they were still small, when she was 31, she was killed in a tractor accident. It happened on Memorial Day weekend. I had gone to visit and I was the one who found her. All of a sudden there were four little kids who didn't have a mother. That was my first realization that life is serious business. In the next year my brother-in-law remarried.
My last year in high school I became serious about a young man from Corydon. We became engaged but he went into the service and was sent overseas for three years. By the time he got back we decided we’d grown apart so that was called off. I started taking the Jefferson bus to spend lots of weekends in Osceola or Weldon, and, when I came to Osceola, I visited my cousin Enid. It just happened in one period of time that I hadn't been home for a few weekends and she began urging me to come. When she had called three weekends in a row, I surmised she wanted me to meet someone. Sure enough there was this very tall man waiting to meet me. This was Emil Muller, a salesman for an agriculture equipment company, and I guess it was love at first sight for both of us. We were married a few months later.
We lived in Des Moines and I continued to work until he was transferred to Cameron, Missouri. Just about the time we moved, I found that I was pregnant and so I stayed home. Our daughter, Roberta, was born in 1963.
Emil took a different job, which moved us to Liberty, Missouri, and it was there, in 1966, that Ronda was born. In 1967, he was transferred back to Osceola and I was glad to be back even though I had made some very good friends in Liberty. In 1968, our son Eric was born. Roberta and Ronda started school at East Elementary.
During the years after we moved back, Emil was on the road all during the week and I had a busy life with three little kids. I was fortunate, however, that Emil provided for us well and I didn't feel that I had to work full time. However, I did work part time for Marie Kimmel, in what was then called the little pink store, and for Vera Klemme at the motel, which is now Americana North. They had a very popular restaurant, well patronized particularly on Saturday nights when they featured a salad bar with steak. We couldn’t afford to eat out so I don’t know what other restaurants there were.
In 1973, Emil was transferred and we moved to Marshalltown, Iowa, where Eric started to school. That was a lonely time. Emil was gone from Sunday night until Friday night, the kids were in school, and I had no friends. In 1975, he grew tired of being on the road all the time and we moved back to Osceola.
In 1978, I went to work full time for George Buesch in the Banta Abstract office. By this time the kids were involved in various activities. They all played ball, were in the band and Scouts and we met ourselves coming and going. I wonder now how we did it.
In September, 1983, our house burned. It was on a Friday night and we had gone to a football game at Afton. As we were returning home and were driving along Clay Street, we met the water truck returning to the station. There weren't many houses out that way so we knew there was a good chance it was ours. As we came over the hill, sure enough. The fire had been burning a couple hours and was beyond control. It was such a shock that we didn't realize what was happening. We just stood and watched. The family was all accounted for: son Eric and his friend Dan were with us, Roberta was away at college and Ronda was working at Gus and Tom’s Steak House. The Fire Marshall later concluded that the fire was caused by lightning having struck a fuse box the week before.
We learned so many things from that experience. First, the Osceola Volunteer Firemen are not appreciated enough. They fought so hard trying to salvage some things for us. They didn't know where all of us were, so they worried that some member of the family might have been in the house.
We salvaged nothing. Everything was totally destroyed. That was when I learned the second but hardest lesson, how to graciously receive. Our parents taught us never to take charity. It was considered a disgrace. You worked for what you got and never held out your hand for anything. But all the people of the community came and gave so freely.
The first morning after the fire, the thought was, where do I begin? I realized that I had better begin with toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant and soap, so my sister-in-law, Shirley Jamison and I went to Robinsons and bought those items plus clothes to get us through the day-sox, underwear, blue jeans, tennis shoes-basically one outfit per person. My aunt, Eula Siefkas, was critically ill and not expected to live even through the day, which was the case. In anticipation, I bought Emil and Eric a pair of dress pants. The bill totaled $583, and all I had was one day's supply.
Again, the community came through! Ronda and Mary Beth Emary were the closest of friends. They wore the same size clothes and Mary Beth shared with her. I knew the fellows' pants would need lengthening and Vera Klemme took care of that. These may seem like small acts of kindness but they meant so much!
The next thought was how to provide the family a place to live. Don and Dorothy Horton were our salvation! They went south every winter and called to ask if we would like to stay in their house. Other than sheets and towels, we could use everything of theirs. During this time Mike Kelly had started on our new home and had it completed mid-March. We were able to move in before Don and Dorothy got home.
One thing we all felt badly about was loss of pictures. All through the years, I had bought all their school pictures and there were other snapshots that we had taken. When I could become somewhat composed, I began contacting people who I thought might have prints that I had sent them through the years. They responded and the next Christmas I gave each one of the children an album of their pictures. They were so surprised because they thought they would never have any of that kind of memorabilia. They so treasured them that the next year I went through all my mother's old pictures and made each an album of their ancestors. Some were so fragile that only Dean's studio in Des Moines would duplicate them, but I was able to get reprints made of all. This deep appreciation was just one bit of evidence that the children, too, grew so much through the experience.
Several days after the fire, we were in the yard sifting through things firemen had pulled out of the house, when a car drove in. It was Melvin Goeldner. He came walking toward us with this great big box and in it was anything you could have ever used in the way of tape, pencils, ruler, string, scissors-everything like that. There were things no one else would have thought of. For months afterward, if somebody needed something, the first thing said was, "Go look in Goeldner's box" and usually it was in there.
Shortly after that I went to work for Jack Beaman at the local radio Station, KJJC. That was a wonderful experience! Jack was a perfectionist and it used to drive him crazy if I didn't have my desk cleaned off. We became very good friends and I probably admired Jack more than anyone I know for his honesty and integrity. He was just a wonderful man.
After Jack sold the station I went to work for Helen Saylor. Of course, it was Ed and Helen but Ed spent a lot of time out of the office working for community development and taking care of their many rental properties. The constant attention this requires is surprising, right down to someone's refrigerator not working and in those days Ed would take care of it. Helen was the broker, ran the real estate and took other kinds of care of the rentals. This has now pretty much fallen into my lap. Eddy died in 1997, and has been greatly missed by the community. Helen has continued to be a promoter for community betterment, as Eddy had been-a great asset to Osceola.
In 1988, my brother Ray, who lived on the family farm, and I went to Florida to bring
back my brother Bob, who was showing signs of early stages of Alzheimer’s. The doctors felt that he would be able to function much better in this familiar area. He rented an apartment in town and we soon became very close. I saw him nearly every day. I would call and say I was having fried potatoes for supper and within a few minutes he would be at the door. He died six years ago. I felt like I was being cheated. We had not been close all those years, then, just as we became close, he was gone.
During the years the kids were in high school, both Emil and I were busy taking care of my parents. They had moved to an apartment in West Ward Manor and needed attention two or three times a day. I never considered that a burden or imposition. It was a good time because it gave me a chance to hear many stories that I would not have known otherwise. They died, just a year apart, each at 90 years of age. I consider that I have been very fortunate to have had my parents for 50 years, because they were in their 40's when I was born.
Four and one/half years ago, I was diagnosed as having breast cancer. The process involved a mammogram, which raised suspicions; then going for a biopsy. I had a local anesthetic so I was wide awake and aware of the talking and laughing of the medical team, which suddenly became very quiet. I heard the doctor say, "Oh, sh--", and I knew. When I was in the recovery area later, he said, "Rilma, its cancer. Say that word. Face it. Say it now and from here on we will speak only in terms of recovery." I appreciated that so much! It is ever so much better than pussy-footing around. The doctor further said, "I've told Emil and he is devastated but I wanted you to know before he came in."
The whole ordeal was pretty traumatic, to say the least. In one moment I had felt confident, in the next I was confronted with the fact that life is pretty fragile. I could die! I was fortunate to have talented, compassionate doctors but there were decisions that only Emil and I could make. The doctor listed our options, but that was as far as he could go. He couldn't make the choice for us and wouldn’t even hint at what he would recommend. After a discussion, we both turned to Emil, who finally pinned the doctor down with the question, "If it were your wife, what would you do?'' He said, and we agreed to a mastectomy. He immediately went on to help us go from that point. He picked my oncologist, saying, "You are going to love him!" and I do. He's an optimist. He always uses endearing terms. I still go for checkups every six months and he's promised that when I get to the five year turning point, I'll only have to go once a year. I came to discover that we have one of the finest cancer centers in the United States right at the John Stoddard unit in Des Moines. But that is ahead of the story.
There were six months of chemo. It was a terrible time. That is nasty stuff in spite of the cheerful mood maintained by those administering it. Patients go into a room lined with recliners and are given treatment there. The last morning I found the chair to which I was assigned decorated with balloons that said, "Congratulations!" Congratulations that I had made it that far. They told me that I would probably not lose my hair but suggested a wig just in case I woke up some morning and my hair would be on my pillow. I discovered there is an organization that furnishes wigs and, if you don't use them, you can return them. I didn't wear mine but, as I look at pictures taken during that time, I think I probably should have. I had never thought of myself as vain but I found out I was.
Another discovery was that I was not frightened of death. It is strange that I was so peaceful about it. It bothered Emil and our kids so much more than me-especially our son. There seems to be a special relationship between mothers and sons, maybe even more than between mothers and daughters.
While I was learning to live with the fact that life might be shorter than I had thought, although I had never questioned it, I now realized in a new way how lucky I was to have a man that loved me as much as Emil did. It gave me strength I needed because just about the time I was recovering from one dose of chemo, thinking I would live through it, it was time to go again. There came a morning when I thought I couldn't go and Emil said, "I just ask that you do it for me. And I did.
I think it was important that, all the time I took chemo, and except for the days of my appointments for another dose, I never missed a day of work. I recommend it because I found work to be therapy. For eight hours you get your mind off yourself. It keeps you in touch with people and I can't tell you how much I appreciate this community! I had so much help! I received hundreds of cards and letters. Jan Short had been through this same ordeal not too long before, as had Dotti Van Werden. They gave me lots of encouragement. For that whole six months, Sandy Kale called every day to check on me. I came to look forward to each new day because the phone would ring and here Sandy would be. All the smiles, the phone calls, the greetings as I met people on the street, they were so important!
There are lingering effects of the chemo. An obvious one is that I don't have the energy I did have. When I get home from work I just sit down and look at the work to be done there. But, because of the chemo, I have seen three grandchildren I would not have seen and there are two more on the way. I have been really blessed with this extra time and have been enjoying it. I belong to Optimists Club and through it have come to know people I would not have had occasion to know any other way. Mark and Vicky Binning are examples, but there are people from every walk of life - bankers, professional people, housewives and others. It's a great group.
When I retire, I would like to spend more time giving back to the community to express my appreciation for all they have given me, like volunteering at the hospital, the senior center, nursing home or others. I hope to have the health to do that. My hobbies now are reading, playing cards, and spoiling the grandkids.
Roberta is married to Dwayne Nienhueser and lives in Alma, Missouri. They are the parents of two adorable boys, Benjamin and Timothy. Roberta received a degree in business administration from Southwest Texas State and is now a CPA with Western Missouri Medical Center in Warrensburg, Missouri.
Ronda is married to Randy Wishon. They live in Osceola, are the parents of a son, Drew, and are expecting another child. Grandpa and I so enjoy having Drew so close. Ronda had attended Simpson College and received a degree in elementary education. She teaches in the I-35 school district in New Virginia.
Eric attended Luther College in Decorah, where he received a degree in business administration and also met his wife Kim (Latzke). They live in Urbandale, are both CPAs and are expecting their first child in September.
In telling this story I realize that I omitted the most important aspect of my life - my deep, abiding faith in the Lord. I had been raised a Methodist but later joined the Lutheran faith of my husband. I now find myself back worshiping in the United Methodist Church. Since my bout with cancer, Emil has given me a necklace with the pendant inscribed, "When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you." I truly believe that the Lord has carried me through the many trials and tribulations throughout the years and only through Him were we given the strength to continue. My favorite Bible verse is from Isa. 43: I call you by name. You are mine.
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Last Revised July 4, 2012