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Sunday will be Father’s Day, a time to honor the men who have enriched our lives. I would like to pay tribute to four fellows who have been great fathers–my dad, Alex; my father-in-law, Rolland; my husband, Ken, and our son, Kurt. These guys have generously given their love, time and support to their sons and daughters. It leaves a lasting impression–our family continues to observe the old-fashion virtues including trust, honesty and treating others as you want to be treated.

My dad was a dairy farmer so every day was ‘take your daughter to work’. I spent many hours in the cowbarn with him. We shared a love of animals and a fascination with the Old West. During evening milking, the barn radio was turned up as loud as it would go so we didn’t miss a word of our favorite program, “The Lone Ranger.” Dad continued to be a good example of how a man treats his family when he became a father-in-law and a grandfather.

My husband owes his male parent for many things. Ken has said his dad emphasized give a firm handshake when you meet others. A lot of the lessons weren’t pointed out–they just happened. Ken inherited his father’s mechanical ability, honed those skills helping his dad fix things and continues to keep our household running smoothly. I benefited when Rolland became my father-in-law and a grand father to our two girls.

Sadly, both of our fathers were taken from us too soon. Rolland was 55 when he was killed in a car crash. He missed meeting our son, Kurt, who was born the following spring. Alex succumbed to a heart attack when he was 63.

Every generation has benefitted from these men whether they spent time together or not. For example, law enforcement has become a family tradition beginning when Rolland was a motorcycle cop in Freeport during the 1930s. Ken joined the Winnebago County Sheriff’s Police during the 1960s followed by Kurt in the 1980s. Our daughter, Lisa, became one of the first female Illinois troopers at the same time. Today, our grandson, Jacob, is a member of the Rockford Police Department and our granddaughter, Katelyn, is an assistant prosecutor in the Winnebago County State’s Attorney’s office. Each of them fulfills an innate desire to help others.

How have generations of fathers influenced your family?

Going by TV ads, stink appears to be a big societal problem. A woman recently invented an all-body deodorant that can be used on arm pits, private parts, feet and anyplace in between to make a person odor-free for 72 hours. She followed the ladies’ version with one especially for gentlemen and is hawking both with commercials. I’ve noticed some of the established brands of underarm deodorant are jumping on the bandwagon and also offering an all-body spray or cream.

Growing up with allergies while living on a farm, I’ve been especially sensitive to smells. It wasn’t until I was an adult that antihistamines came on the market. Up until that time, I just blew my nose a lot and felt like I was keeping Kleenex in business.

During the first seven years of our marriage, Ken was a farmer. Only a woven wire fence separated our backyard from the pig lot. A spring rain intensified that stench especially when the wind was from the north.

When our family moved from the farm into the village of Durand, I assumed we were leaving foul odors behind until the public works crew used tar to resurface our street. I thought that was worse than the hogs had ever been.

For as long as I can remember, there have been room deodorizers and people have burned incense or candles to add a pleasant aroma to the inside of their homes. There are various products on the market to add to our laundry to accomplish the same thing. Not only do we want our dirty clothes washed, they must also smell clean when they come out of the dryer. Some of us remember our sheets and pillow cases after they were dried on an outdoor clothesline in the sun and breeze. Now, packaged products seek to mimic it.

What products do you buy to mask or eliminate unwanted odors?

Last month, Ken and I celebrated our 65th wedding anniversary. I am fortunate to still be in contact with several women who have been my cronies since before Kenny became my boyfriend in high school. At that time, we girls all lived on family, dairy farms so we had a lot in common. As teenagers do, we exchanged confidences about the guys we were dating.

When my contemporaries and I were graduating seniors, we had no clue about where our adult lives might take us. I have stayed in the Durand community, become the matriarch of a police family and a journalist. Some of my chums moved away for marriage or employment but then returned and we reunited.

Through the years, we didn’t always take time to stay in contact with everyone we knew. It may be necessary to fill in the gaps in our relationships that occurred while we were each busy with our own families and activities.

All of us have coped with marriages, births, divorces, serious illnesses and deaths. We have changed but there remains that inner something that brought us together in the first place. It’s a treat to chat with someone my age who is looking forward as we as “remembering when…”

We may surreptitiously make comparisons about how each of us is handling old age. As octogenarians, we have said final good-byes to many of our cohorts. My twenty-three DHS classmates no longer gather for an annual reunion because so many have died or are in poor health and no longer able to attend.

I had never thought my friendships unusual until I was talking with a woman who had grown up in a family that moved around the country a lot. She had no longtime comrades.

Do you still have any friends that you grew up with?

Monday, May 27, is our nation’s observance of Memorial Day, a holiday honoring the men and women who died while serving in the U.S. military. Activities will include flying Old Glory, parades and the American Legion organizations selling artificial, red poppies as a fund raiser. The flower has been a symbol of lives lost since the World War I poem by John McCrae, “In Flanders Field.”

The first commemoration was held three years after the ending of the Civil War (1861 – 1865). General John Logan designated May 30, 1868, as Decoration Day, because it wasn’t the anniversary of any battle. He asked people to strew flowers or otherwise decorate the graves in a nationwide remembrance of his comrades who died in defense of our country during the late rebellion and whose bodies lie in almost every city, village and hamlet churchyard in the land. The tradition continued until 1971 when an Act of Congress designated the last Monday in May as Memorial Day, an official federal holiday.

According to the United States Census Bureau, at least 1.2 million people have been killed in battle beginning with the Revolutionary War (1775 – 1783). A few casualties were female, mostly nurses, but the majority were male. Some enlisted in the armed services and others were drafted.

Most of the people were young–just beginning their adult lives. Some weren’t considered mature enough to vote in elections or drink alcohol but they were the right age to fight for our country. Our armed services have standards to meet–only the fit are welcomed.

Many people consider Memorial weekend the unofficial beginning of summer activities. Grills and patio furniture will be dusted off for picnics, bar-b-ques and parties. Businesses will conduct sales urging customers to buy big ticket items such as furniture.

I hope everyone will take time to look around and consider, “Was my freedom worth someone’s life?”

Vintage doesn’t just apply to wine–it can be an adjective or noun that means of high quality or typical of a past period. I recently read in the newspaper that vintage clothing has become a big thing in area thrift stores. I guess I’m still wearing mine.

I have a pair of jeans with a high waist and another with a low waist, both styles popular at different times. I don’t usually follow the latest trend but sometimes the only thing available in stores is what is the current fad. Thank heaven, I didn’t need any new pants while the holes in the knees of denims was popular. I felt I was too old to sport the mode and I would never have spent our hard-earned money for something so silly.

Sometimes, I remember when I purchased one of my outfits because I bought it for a special occasion. In 2003, I bought a black pant suit to wear for Ken’s fiftieth high school class reunion held aboard a pleasure boat at Oregon, Illinois. Two years later, the garment seemed like a good choice to wear for our family portrait taken when our church published an album of its members. We also bought an 8 x 10 copy to hang on our wall.

In 2019, when it was time for our sixtieth anniversary, we wanted another formal family picture taken. When we hung that photo on the wall above the other one, I noticed I was wearing the same black pant suit in both pictures taken fourteen years apart. The outfit still hangs in my closet waiting for another special occasion. I’m fortunate that it still fits.

When I buy something new, it is usually similar to what I already have.

Do you purchase clothes in the latest style or stick to classics?

I had just become a mother when Mom said, “I never had anyone to teach me to be a mother or a grandmother.”

I responded, “You’ve certainly done an excellent job.”

I knew Mom was only seven when her mother had died but I’d never really thought about what her life had been like. Her two much older sisters soon married leaving her father alone to raise Mom and her brother.

I’ve taken for granted the many things I learned from my mother and her oldest sister, Aunt Frannie, who was like a grandmother to me.

I didn’t know much about babies when Linda was born. I soon realized bearing a child didn’t automatically make me a mother. Mom lived close by and came every day to show me how to take care of our newborn. When Lisa came along a year later, I was a seasoned parent. Kurt joined our family two years after that. When I asked Mom to babysit while I went shopping, I said, “Can you handle all three of them? I could take one with me.”

Her response, “If you can, I can.” I hadn’t thought of it that way.

Our offspring spent a lot of time with their grandparents who considered babysitting a privilege instead of a job. Mom was my safety valve when I was out of patience with our little ones as well as giving Ken and me free time to spend as adults together. Our friends looked at my husband and me with envy because our kids usually stayed overnight at their grandparents’ house. Ken and I could sleep late in the morning after a night out.

If you’ve had a loving mother and grandmother, have you ever thought about how your life would have been without them?

Last Sunday night, I was alone–Ken was fishing at Kentucky Lake. The weather forecast for a thunder storm that night took my thoughts back to 1967.

October 23, 1966, Ken joined the Winnebago County Sheriff’s Department. During the following summer, he and several other new deputies were sent to the university in Carbondale for a six-weeks, basic police school. He drove home on the weekends. After an early lunch Sunday, he would leave our Durand house and again make the trip from one end of the state to the other. It seemed I could count on a rip-roaring storm later that evening.

I’d been afraid of thunder storms for as long as I could remember. I blamed it on the fact that three times I’d lived in a house that had been struck by lightning. It never caused a fire, just damage such as breaking windows. When I was a small child, the first distant roll of thunder or slash of lightning at night woke me and sent me crawling into bed with Mom and Dad. As I grew older, I’d open the door that separated our two bedrooms.

While I was in grade school, I’d checked the encyclopedia Britannica and found the odds that one will be struck by lightning in the U.S. during one’s lifetime are 1 in 15,300. But even those statistics didn’t ease my fear–I thought I might be the one that the lightning was looking for.

After I was married, I didn’t sleep alone–I could curl up next to my husband and feel safe. While he was gone, I didn’t want to pass on my fear to my children. Besides, there wasn’t room in our double bed for our three little ones. I toughed it out, faced my fear week after week and won. Now, I don’t always wake up when it storms.

Have you ever been forced to face one of your fears?

I’ve always felt like a capable female–an only child raised on a dairy farm where my mother worked outdoors alongside my father and I was dragged along. There always seemed to be some ‘child-sized’ jobs that I could handle as I was growing up. One of the first things I did in the barn in the afternoon before our 24 cows were let in from their exercise yard, Dad would dip ground feed from a five-gallon bucket and place a serving before each stanchion. I would follow with my little pail and add a measure of dry molasses on top of each mound.

Many years passed and the time came when my mother, a widow, needed my help as she aged. I remember her asking me to take over paying her bills. “I’m forgetting things,” she said. She had added my name to her checking account. We lived just a few blocks apart so it was easy for me to visit her home often and help where needed.

I’ve always expected to handle things myself. As an example, several years ago, I was pouring the gravy out of the big, stainless steel, frying pan–one of the last touches for our family Thanksgiving dinner. Our grandadult, Katelyn, walked by the stove and asked, “Can I help you, Grandma?”

I responded, “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

Since I updated from a typewriter to a computer, it’s easy to ask our son, Kurt, for help because it’s new to me and he speaks the language.

But now, it’s become time to ask for help with some routine tasks. I am fortunate to be living with my husband, Ken, so the two of us can handle most daily chores together, but I have hired a cleaning service because I can no longer vacuum and mop.

We want to continue to host traditional holiday dinners but I need our daughter, Lisa, to help me in the kitchen. I can handle the things that can be done in advance, but not all of the last-minute duties.

Do you need help with anything?

ANNIVERSARY

Today is our 65th anniversary. Our courtship, which lasted for seven years, began at the Davis summer festival when this bored, 14-year-old said an enthusiastic, “Yes,” to 16-year-old Kenny’s question, “Would you care to ride the Ferris wheel?” I didn’t realize in 1952 that I was making a commitment for the rest of my life.

As we fell in love, Nat “King” Cole’s recording of “Too Young” was popular and it felt like he was singing just to us. I was sure we weren’t too young to be in love and it has lasted all these years.

Our wedding, April 17, 1959, went just as I planned. Dad walked me down the aisle for out candlelight ceremony at 7:00 p.m. The Trinity Lutheran Church was small and could seat only one hundred people. My cousin, Doris, was my maid of honor and Ken’s long-time friend, Wayne, was best man. The Ladies Aid took care of serving our small reception of sandwiches and cake that followed in the church basement. At 9:00 p.m., we joined a crowd of friends and relatives at the nearby New England Grange Hall for our wedding dance. a family tradition. Live music was provided by the Rock City Chevrolet dealer, John Pela, and the Bel Air Ranch Boys.

We’re proud of the family we created–our children, grandchildren and the people who have married into our clan. We appreciate that they all settled in this area so we can continue to be a part of their lives.

In some ways, it doesn’t seem that long ago that we repeated the traditional vows “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish until death us do part.” We were optimistic on our wedding day, but our life together has followed all of those words. We are fortunate to still be together and able to celebrate by going for supper at Merrill & Houston’s in Beloit.

What events have been pivotal in your life?

My mother was fascinated by the timing of events. Listening to her has made me conscious of things occurring at a certain time. Although they’re small, they may turn out to be life-changing.

I still have the portable typewriter that was my Christmas gift in 1952 when I was a high school sophomore learning to type. For the first time in their lives, my parents used monthly payments to pay the large bill, which totaled nearly one hundred dollars. Seventeen years later, I could become a freelance reporter writing the news from the Durand community for the Rockford Morning Star because I owned a typewriter. I never have figured out why my parents gave me that expensive gift.

When our children were in high school, a work/study program was initiated. Lisa spent part of her day detailing cars for the local Ford dealer, an unusual task for a girl. Kurt worked on boats at a newly opened marina across the road from nearby Lake Summerset. Both of them liked their jobs and learned a lot about running a small business. I enjoyed listening to them talk about their employment and it was obvious they felt they were an integral part of the operation. One would say, “We do things this way.” And the other replied, ” Well, we do it that way.” Their earnings enabled them to buy their first cars needed to drive to Rock Valley College and obtain their associate’s degrees.

I met Mary when she dated Ken’s Winnebago County Police detective partner, Gene, and the four of us went out to supper on a summer evening in 1980. When school began in the fall, she was the bus driver who brought several Winnebago High School students to Durand for a mathematics course not available in their home district. The small schools in Winnebago County had entered into a co-op arrangement. While she waited for the kids during the first period of the day, we met again at a nearby coffee shop each morning and became friends.

When I learned the World’s Fair was going to be held in Knoxville, Tennessee, during the summer of 1982, I wanted to attend because that was probably the closest it would ever be, but I didn’t see any opportunity. Soon, Mary told me she was going to drive a school bus to take the teenagers from her church to the fair and added there would be room for me to ride along. On the way, we slept in sleeping bags laid on floors in churches, but Mary and I were in a different room from the teens and their chaperones so we wouldn’t be disturbed. When we arrived in the city, we all showered at the “Y.” It wasn’t a deluxe vacation but I enjoyed the fair immensely.

Those are a few of my happenstances. As you think back, how many things happened at a certain time to affect your future?