Vacation Car Trips to Montana
Two weeks' vacation, almost always to see Mom's family in Kalispell MT. Mom was a bit nervous before we pulled out of town because, if someone in the congregation got very sick or died, we would need to stay at home.
I remember starting the drive, and before Black Earth maybe 20 minutes into the trip on a windy road, I was already wondering how long, with 1,200-20 miles to go. And Dad smoked his pipe the whole way, and with no air conditioning we couldn't crack a window or it would be a draft for Dad (even if no one else could feel it). I would lay in the foot-well since it was the coolest spot and well before seat belts.
The Trailer Comes Along
When I was born (in 1951 in St Paul) Mark was 7 years older and Jon 9 years. Mom was 40 and Dad 42. We were in Saint Paul from 1949 to January 1956. Here is our family Christmas card one of those years, perhaps 1951.
Mom and Dad told the story that Jenny wanted me named Steven, but she knew that at the baptism, Dad would have the last word for the baby's name, Michael. And she was right.
Front Page News
While the parsonage was being moved around the corner next to Immanuel on Snelling Avenue in St Paul, we stayed at the Commodore Hotel. On November 9, 1952, there was a fire on the roof, everyone evacuated for a while, and here is Inez with Michael in the lobby. A St Paul Gazette photographer snaped a picture and it was on their front page the next day.
Scouts
From cub scouts to boy scouts, all of us boys had great times together even though it was often chaos. We needed 21 merit badges and our service project for church (Pro Deio). I don't think I got much out of the animal track assignment (my track pics were perhaps only a large dog) and to this day I don't have a clue about constellations beyond the big dipper. But, Gunner Larson was a great mentor for so much, and his photography training was a labor of love.
All of us loved sharp objects, especially hatchets. At the campouts I remember hearing chopping both night and day, but no injuries that I recall. The other favorite activities were digging (for no reason) and team steal the flag. One year at the Castle Rock scout camp, we made a terrific two tear tower by lashing the poles together.
Three of us classmates made it to eagle scouts, here at the awards ceremony in 1970. Phil Zwald, Steve Narveson, and me. We were also able to go with a Madison group to Philmont for two weeks of great backpacking in New Mexico the summer before.
Here is our rag-tag troop, with our scoutmaster Mr. Jacobs (who was also a teacher, and before he married Miss Farrah). Here is who I recognize: Jeff Bergey, Steve Narveson (who always had the full uniform), me, Steve Johnson's older brother, unrecognized, Greg Albert, Prohaska, Phil Zwald, and unrecognized.
Gunnar Larson had lead the drum and bugle corps before my time, but with his son Larry and both Mark and Jon, I think. This was one of the bugles (part of a lamp combo) that I played at Gunnar and Vera's. As I look closer, it is clearly a coronet, so perhaps I was practicing for the school band. On the bed is Satin and, on the desk, an attentive dachshund.
Growing Up in Mount Horeb
The world of a kid in Mount Horeb during the 60s was three things for me: church, scouts, and sports. As I look back, I don't think I had a lot of talent for sports but in a small town I had a chance to play football, basketball, and baseball. We usually needed everyone to field teams. I played center in basketball at almost 6' 1". In football I remember the days near the end of the season when the ground was so, so hard and we sometimes didn't have enough un-injured to have a scrimmage with 22 of us. But I loved being part of the teams with friends since kindergarten. Home talent was special with Coach Dangerfield and the guys I had played with a long time.
Summers were great times as a kid, with swimming almost every day and playing outdoors in the neighborhood often into the evening. I remember how hot some days felt without air conditioning, but it meant the windows stayed open for even a slight breeze. It also allowed a kid to hear everything in our quiet neighborhood...a car passing, someone walking down the street or alley, and the mourning doves cooing.
There were many camps over the years: YMCA Camp Wacanda, Lutherdale Bible Camp, and one basketball camp. Starting to work was varied: picking rocks for one long day, years as a guide at Cave of the Mounds, holiday work at Hoff's, and a summer counselor (at the camp Jon ran) at Indian Sands. I also had a summer trip to Philmont Scout Ranch and a two-week science camp at University of Pittsburgh.
Church
Church was the foundation of life. I have lots of memories from church, but here are just a few:
Sunday School, about 6th grade, with Mr. Hagestad. He was the only man who taught one of my classes, except my dad for confirmation. Mr. Hagestad was so different than other teachers, and he seemed to like to talk with us way beyond the Bible lesson.
Helping dad with vacation bible school through college. I taught a class and supervised recess in the vacant lot; usually kickball. VBS was quite a production, and dad lead the group opening with lots of energy and it was fun for everyone.
Going with dad into Madison on hospital visits. He thought it was good to see real people and have a chance to visit with them even when they were in tough shape.
Luther League once a month (I think). I don't think I appreciated it then, but we did have a good time with other kids, especially for Halloween and New Year's Eve.
For Lenten services I was the operator for the film projector, synching with the record that had a beep for every slide. A lot of responsibility with so many eyes watching.
We could choose to recite the 53rd chapter of Isaiah at a Lenten service. Also nerve racking, but it felt good when it was done.
Confirmation was a big event, for family and friends.
I counted 27 of us in the confirmation class of 1967.
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