Assisted Living

Uncommon now, but until the first half of the 20th century, if a parent lost a spouse and reached an age of maturity, it was customary for that parent to move in with a daughter. Woe to him who raised no daughters; sons are mostly unreliable.

Swedish style home

Sofia, my great-grandmother, wife of great-grandfather Carl, died in 1918. Carl lived until 1938 with his only daughter, my grandmother, Esther. My other great-grandmother, Hannah, died in 1923 and Esther's father-in-law, Nils, lived with them until his death in 1927.  Add in her bachelor brother, my great-uncle Dave, who lived with her family until his death in 1974.

Add to that 7 kids.


So...

Nuclear family: husband, wife, 7 children = 9.
Extended family: father, father-in-law, brother = 3.

12 for 3 squares / day.  And on Sunday, always more.

Sunday dinner

And they kept coming.  The kids were gone but her 2 sisters-in-law moved in in the '60's.

But the subject of this post is not in praise of my grandmother (see Esther's post for that story), rather to brief you on the step prior to moving in with your daughter.

You must dispose of your "stuff".

As they say, "you can't take it with you" and that includes the move to the daughter's home. In your case, you have my sympathies. In this day and age the detritus of life accumulates to an amazing volume.  It is your duty to do this of course as the economy depends on your constant "consuming". Unfortunately, much of what we have is not "consumable" but "accumulatable"  (is that a word? you get my gist I think.)  How to get rid of it all?  Many resort to the "estate sale" usually before they are dead and about to move to the "home" - the modern version of the "daughter's place".  An estate sale is when you have someone undervalue your priceless possessions,  open your home to a parade of bargain hunters - usually on a rainy weekend - and let them traipse through and walk off with your belongings all for pennies.

"Will you take a dollar for that Remington bronco buster bronze thing?"  "I'll give you 5 bucks for that Norwegian sweater."

Then you pay 50% or so commission for the service and more to have someone come in and clean and disinfect your home. A losing proposition.


The counter-part to this modern day travesty is "the farm auction".  The difference is of course, it is your friends and neighbors rather than strangers who come to rob you.  And you get the privilege of standing in the back of the crowd and watching.  It is a painful experience to discover how little value other people hold for your belongings. Front and center are the auction addicts, drooling, ready to grab whatever they can for a song.  And next week when you stop by the flea market in town, there it all is.

My great-grandfather Carl owned a farm on Stowe's Lake, north of Brandon. When his son and son-in-law bought the hardware in Lowry in 1916, he held a farm auction to dispose of farm equipment, tools and animals.  Proceeds were roughly $2800.  The auctioneer took only 3%.  People were more civilized back then. More than 1/2 the total came from the sale of livestock:

• 8 calves @$17 ea         $136
• 9 cows @ ~$50            $450
• 3 red steer @ ~$30       $ 90
• 3 red heifer @~35        $105
• 6 horses                        $700  (3 black, 2 bay, 1 roan)
• 69 chickens @.60         $  41
• ...

And the rest

• family organ       $15.00
• wheel barrow      $ 1.50
• hay rack              $ 4.00
• binder                 $10.00
• corn planter        $21.00
• wagon                 $28.00
• manure spreader $53.00
• 100 bu oats         $48.00
• surrey                  $40.00
• ...

I know that income and costs were much lower 100 years ago, but this had to be a painful day.

  

There is a lesson here for all of us approaching this day of reckoning.  That manure spreader you hold so near and dear will only bring you $53.  A good Lenten resolution is to get rid of 1 manure spreader a day for each of the 40 days. And perhaps extend it to the 50 days of Pentecost.  Ponder it.

Copyright © 2019 Dave Hoplin

Village of Lowry circa 1916

This is a rare early view of the town of Lowry looking south from the Soo Line railroad.  I'm guessing about 1916. This postcard was sent by Gust Nelson to his brothers in Brandon who purchased the Lowry Hardware Machinery & Furniture business in that year.

The shot pictures the depot in the lower right next to Gust's lumber yard, the roller mill in the center, the school on the horizon and a substantial barn in the upper left.  Wooden sidewalks! And a couple wells.

I am puzzled where the photo would have been taken from.  Perhaps the top of an elevator  next to the railroad.



Copyright © 2019 Dave Hoplin

Springtime in Minnesota

Pardon my thumb

Springtime in Minnesota is the season of ... slop. Water, lots of water, appears where water should not be. The snowbanks begin to melt from the bottom up and under the top two feet of snow you find another foot of slush. My home is particularly susceptible to spring melt. Our lot sits at the low point of a downhill cul-de-sac and a hill slopes toward the house from the woods in the back. Perfect geology for forming lake #10,000 & 1.


In years where we get normal (or twice normal) snowfall, in order to avoid really ugly water issues, I must create a drainage ditch from my backyard to the street. As a kid, I used to love playing in the rivers running down the streets from the snow melt.  Contests to see who could get their popsicle stick raft to go the farthest, the champion watching it careen down Arnold Hedlin's hill on the south end of town. This thrill has lost its splendor somehow. (I know you rural folks are chortling, having to deal with the worse issues but yours is mud. You have my condolences, but my own issues are just slightly more than I can handle.)

Plan 1. Perhaps it is my increasing frailty but this year the snow fall seems beyond the pale. Armed with my trusty shovel, I start a trench from the street to the backyard.  Quite quickly I discover that my boots are an effective water collection system as I sink to my knees and into 18" of very cold liquid.  The water level in my boots soon covers my feet.


Plan 2. I put on my snowshoes trusting them to keep me from submersion into the watery quagmire. For a while it seems to be working but soon I find my snowshoes sink 2 feet below sea level and nigh impossible to extract. My balance isn't what it used to be and with a tug on the snowshoes I find myself lying (I checked the grammar) on my back with the ice cold water coursing over me. You cannot imagine how hard it is to extract snowshoes and stand up from a prone position when the snowshoes are locked like concrete in freezing slush? I have enough trouble just getting out of bed but here I had visions, if not of drowning in my backyard, perhaps freezing into an ice block to be discovered intact by archeologists in a thousand years or so.  But I manage to crawl, sloshing about 15 feet to the ash tree and pull myself erect.

Plan 3. Carol suggests a roof rake. I find the it in the garage. Every Minnesota home owner has a roof rake. No, not for leaves, for pulling mountains of snow off the roof. I find with the 20' reach of the rake, I can find firm footing and pull the slush aside to create a decent drainage ditch. Hallelujah.

I told Carol how much fun I was having. Heh. heh.

Copyright © 2019 Dave Hoplin

A Life: The War Years

My father rarely spoke of his WWII war years and I was not persistent enough with my inquiries.  I did love to wear his white navy hat as a kid. But he did agree to write up his experiences for me for a family history book. 

Glenn joined the navy after graduating from Augsburg College in 1942. He was inducted and sworn in at the Federal Building on Washington Ave in Minneapolis. He was sent to Great Lakes Naval Training Center for boot camp. 

The following is in his own words ...

“We went through the medical line again after being issued hat and shoes – no other clothing, received shots, scared to death by the old salts with stories of square needles to sensitive areas. I had my chest painted red with ‘HOSPITAL’, to be sent for hernia repair. Regulations allowed 40 days for return to duty. After spending about a month in Outgoing Unit (OGU) and several weeks’ kitchen duty, washing dishes, peeling potatoes and shining garbage cans, I was assigned to Electrical Training School in Moorhead, KY on the campus of Moorhead State College, where the Navy had taken over part of the campus. This was a 3 month course of classroom study. We lived in a dorm – 4 sailors to a room. After this course, I was assigned more electrical training at Consolidated Edison Power Plant on the East River in New York City. This was an ‘in-plant’ session, observing the production and distribution of electrical power. This was a huge generating plant with many boilers and turbine generators. The coal for the stokers would come up river on barges, and the coal was elevated to the top of building and distributed to stokers. This was a six-week stint and we lived on Pier 92 on the Hudson. 




Next step was to the commissioning crew of the battleship BB62 USS New Jersey, which was being built in the Philadelphia Navy Yard. We were billeted in a Navy building for a few weeks, going on board in daytime to work – standing fire watch for welders, etc. Commissioning day was in May 1943. After a shakedown cruise down the Delaware River and into the Caribbean to test equipment, make speed runs, target practice – and a brief liberty in Trinidad - we returned to Philadelphia to fix the various flaws. Then to Boston where BB62 anchored for a few days and finally shipping out from Portland,ME to join our sister ship BB61 USS Iowa. Apparently the Iowa had gotten into trouble and gone aground. 

We proceeded south and entered the Pacific through the locks of the Panama Canal. The Jersey and its class were the last naval ships designed to fit in the canal locks. The locks are 110’ across and the Jersey was 108’. The operation of the locks is fascinating, with water levels raised by gravity flow from the created lake above. The reverse is done on the Pacific side, with water from Gatum Lake discharged into the Pacific, lower the ship in 3 locks to sea level. We anchored in the Gulf of Panama and took on fuel. The oil kings miscalculated and flooded a sleeping compartment with 6” of #5 black fuel. All openings between compartments have water-tight doors and 8” thresholds, so the spill was contained. But it was a mess to clean up.

E Division aboard BB62. Glenn row 1 front & center

We left Panama City for the South Pacific and in a few days anchored at Funafuti, a small island in the Ellis group, just south of the equator. A couple days later we were part of the 5th fleet under the command of Admiral Spruance. None of knew where we were going, but the harbor was filled with ships – aircraft carriers, cruisers, battleships, destroyers, destroyer escorts and dozens of supply ships – an awesome sight. Our mission was to prepare the Marshall Island Group for a marine invasion. For about a week, we shelled and bombed these atolls until the palm trees were nothing but stumps. The Iowa class battleships were armed with three turrets each with 3 16” guns.  How anyone could survive such shelling? Of course, the Japanese did and the fighting was fierce. A week after the landing, we anchored at Kwajelain Island in the Marshall Island group. Most of these islands are coral reefs.

From here began a series of island hopping, leaving Japanese occupied atolls cutoff from supply and eventually securing an anchorage at Palau and Ulithi and neutralizing the Japanese base on Truk Island in the Carolines. Then north to the Marianas, Guam, Saipan & Tinian. These islands are volcanic and valuable for airfields that put the new B29’s in range of Japan. Then we went south to New Guinea in preparation for the invasion of the Philippines. We also participated in the invasion of Iwo Jima, famous for its flag raising photo on Mount Surabachi. During the Marianas campaign, the Japanese were desperate and planned an attack on the 5th fleet from their carriers and go on to Guam which was still in their hands, refuel and return to their carriers. The battle became known as the Marianna’s turkey shoot. Over 400 Japanese planes were shot down. Admiral Spruance ordered the fleet to flank speed to attack the Japanese fleet. The distances between the target was calculated to so our carriers would be available when the planes would be nearly empty of fuel. Many US planes had to land in the water as the carriers could not land the planes fast enough and they ran out of fuel. That night every search light in the fleet was burning, something never seen in a war zone. Most of the pilots were recovered but many planes were lost.

We were then ordered to Pearl Harbor to be fitted with new radar and receiving Admiral William “Bull” Halsey as commander of the 3rd fleet. [The 3rd and 5th fleet were essentially the same ships, except for the command. I suspect it as an attempt to make the Japanese believe we had a 3rd, 5th and 7th fleet in the theatre. The 7th consisted of older battleships and carriers.]

During the battle for the Philippines, the 3rd fleet was supposed to support General MacArthur’s invading forces. A typhoon arose and the fleet was dead in the middle of it. The violence of the sea is indescribable. It lasted so long that many destroyers ran out of fuel. We made several attempts to refuel them but the destroyers were like corks and uncontrollable without engine power. It was impossible. We never arrived to support MacArthur.

There was a report in the Minneapolis paper in 1944, stating that Oliver’s ship, the Nassau and the Jersey were both anchored in Kwajelein. Oliver recognized the Jersey and negotiated a whale boat trip across the harbor. Stopping the war so two brothers could meet. There were pictures of Oliver, Glenn and Elise in the article. Never happened. Navy propaganda exercise.

After the invasion of Saipan, the B29 super fortress bombing campaign began in earnest. The first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945 and the second on Nagasaki, August 9. The Japanese surrendered. The formal Japanese signing of the surrender terms took place on board the battleship USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay on September 2, 1945. There was some resentment at this, as the Missouri had served a very short time in the war theater, however, Truman was now President and from Missouri, so that was that.

A tragic side story. The atomic bomb was transported by the Cruiser Indianapolis from the US to Saipan. She then proceeded to the Philippines and was sunk by a Japanese submarine. The survivors were in the water for several days as there distress signal was ignored. Only when she was late arriving in Manila, was a search initiated – a tragic event.

In May 1945, we were ordered to Bremerton, WA Navy Yard for repairs and improvements. I was granted 10 days leave and traveled to Minneapolis, where I married Ruth Pearson on June 4, 1945. We had been engaged for some months and this was a very happy time. 


I reported back to the ship on June 13. Flights were usually full or overbooked and someone with rank could bump you. This happened to me in Great Falls , MT. I was worried I would be AWOL. Luckily, I got on the next flight and arrived in Seattle in time. We left Bremerton at the end of June for the Philippines. We were anchored in Manila Bay at the time of the surrender, and were given liberty there. We had to anchor far out into the bay because of all the sunken ships. We rode a motor whale boat to see a bombed out city. What a mess. Kids in the streets, peddling and begging. We left Manila and arrived in Tokyo Bay a few days after the surrender ceremonies on the Missouri.

The Navy had a point system to qualify for discharge. It was based on length of service, number of engagements, marital state and who knows what. I had many more points than I needed for separation so was transferred to a Kaiser built transport ship bound for Bremerton. Enroute we ran into a typhoon. The ship bounced like a cork and many old salts became quite penitent. I spent a couple days in Bremerton and then to Minneapolis for discharge at World Chamberlain Naval base. We were given a gold discharge pin, called a 'ruptured duck' and $100 mustering out pay. No longer sailors – Hallelujah. It was a happy time as my wife of four months met me."

Copyright © 2019 Dave Hoplin