Peg Vanourny Memoir

My Life through the decades

1942 - 2020

By Peg Lawler Vanourny Dedicated to our beautiful children

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Contents

Chapter One

Forward

pp.

5-8

Chapter Two

My Mother

pp.

9-14

Chapter Three

My Dad

pp. 15-19

Chapter Four

Growing Up in Iowa

pp. 21-31

Chapter Five

College Years

pp. 33-38

Chapter Six

Engagement & Marriage

pp. 39-48

Chapter Seven

Beginning Our Married Life

pp. 49-58

Chapter Eight

Internship and the Military

pp. 59-72

Chapter Nine

Back to Iowa (Residency)

pp. 73-80

Chapter Ten

Cedar Rapids

pp. 81-96

Chapter Eleven

After

pp. 97-100

Chapter Twelve

Generations

pp. 101-116

Chapter Thirteen

Steve’s Story

pp. 117-128

Final Thoughts

pp. 129-132

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Chapter One Forward The year 2019 ended on a wonderful note. All three of our children and their spouses came for the Christmas holidays.

Thanks to modern technology, we were able to get all five grands in one picture: Rachel and Jane in CA (with Grandpa in the upper corner!) and Jack, Emily, and Elsa in FL. What a great picture we managed to get with the help of our tech wizard!

Although we sorely missed our California grandchildren, our other three made the trip with their families. The children stayed in a nearby hotel and the grandchildren stayed with us. Since our home here in Florida has a master bedroom and three guest rooms, we thought things worked out pretty well. The adults had the evenings to themselves, had breakfast at the hotel and came over rested and ready for the day.

Emily and Elsa by the tree

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The kids also were able to get up pretty much when they were ready. Since they are all teenagers, this meant that they were not getting us up at the crack of dawn.

Everyone was only here a few days, and they were busy ones filled with splashing, laughter, opening gifts and working on tans. Steve and I hoped that everyone had as good a time as we did, because, with the exception of missing Jane and Rachel, it was one of the best Christmases ever!

A rare family photo Left to right Krista, Jack, Emily, Steve, Jr., Steve, Sr., Peg, Stephanie, Lloyd, Elsa, and Kristin

Merry Christmas to One and All! Soon everyone began their departures. Kristin flew back to California and Steve, Krista, Jack and Emily were not far behind as they also left by plane to return to Boston.

Stephanie, Lloyd and Elsa helped us ring in the New Year, take down the tree, and then they also packed up presents and dogs and headed back for the long drive to Michigan.

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Steve and I started washing sheets and towels, went to bed early for the next couple of nights, and talked about how eerily quiet the house was. But soon we were back to playing golf, bridge, and having fun with our friends.

Then came March!

There’s an old saying that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. Not so in 2020. We started hearing rumbles early in the year about an illness in parts of China, and that illness became known as COVID-19. The March Lion roared in - not only to the US but to the entire world. He unsheathed his claws everywhere, causing a pandemic such as we have not seen for decades. And there seems to be no lamb in sight.

The whole world has battled this coronavirus with tens of thousands becoming ill and dying. Business closed, borders closed, schools closed. People were unable to travel from country to country as the virus continued to spread. Ventilators seemed to help those who were hospitalized, but many of those people, especially the elderly and those with compromised immune systems or other underlying problems still died. Most of us have learned to always wear masks when we go anyplace because they are required in the retail and grocery stores and restaurants which have now reopened.

There was (and is) no known safe treatment and no vaccine. As I write this in the summer and fall of 2020, we are still battling this illness and there is really no end in sight.

We live in Florida, one of the “hot spots,� and we have become unwelcome in many other states - a strange feeling in this country.

Students and parents are concerned for the safety of their children as schools begin to partially open with the option of in-class or virtual learning. Everyone is concerned about losing jobs, how to care for children if they get a new job or return to work but their children have not returned to school. Teachers, nurses, doctors, and people who cannot work from home are worried about getting sick. And it goes on and on.

In May, a Black man, George Floyd, was killed during his arrest by a white police officer and this set off protests against police brutality and racism across the country, several of which have turned to riots with property destruction, looting and injuries of both protesters and police. The protests continue as the weeks go on. This is also an election year, so the various news stations play things up to the point that we have very little trust in the truth of the media anymore.

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We have added new words to our vocabularies: social distancing and systemic racism among them. It seems as though chasms have grown between people with differing opinions, peaceful dialogues are more difficult than ever, and people on both sides of political issues are afraid of what is currently happening.

Closer to home, my younger brother Bob became quite ill following a serious surgery.

He was hospitalized in July and has finally been able to return home after battling COVID in the hospital. He is still weak, and we continue to pray for him.

Besides COVID and the clashes between people, we have had terrible fires in CA and now in August, a storm called a derecho which hit the Midwestern states from Iowa to Michigan, devastated property and crops as well as injuring and killing people. The weathermen call this type of storm an “inland hurricane,� and said it had winds of over 100 miles an hour - the equivalent of a category 4 hurricane! There have been numerous postings of loss of life, crop and property damage, and state-wide loss of power, but this is one of the pictures that continues to haunt me. Steve and I lived in Iowa most of our lives and we had never experienced such a thing!

Before she left our home in January, Stephanie commented on Grandma Lawler’s book of her memories, and asked me if I would compose something similar so she and the family would have memories of Steve, me, and our family in our early years. I agreed to do this, not knowing what a blessing this would be.

It has been a pleasure to look back on my youth, revisiting days with my parents and family, meeting and marrying my husband of 56 years this August, and raising 3 children of whom Steve and I are so proud. Thank you, Stephanie, for giving me the prod to have this opportunity to realize how much we have been blessed.

I am hoping that I can write a short afterward that tells about how our family and country were able to recover and that things are moving forward.

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Chapter Two My Mother My mother was an amazing woman! Raising 5 children and being a loving mother and wife was no small task!

My parents were married in 1940, and my dad worked as a salesman for Blank Swaney in Fort Dodge, IA. I was born in 1942 during WWII. My dad's draft status changed, and he was eligible to be drafted. He enlisted in the Army Air Corps and was given a short time to get things in order before he had to report for training in Oklahoma. Mom and I remained in Fort Dodge where she worked two jobs - one at Swaney's and one at a finance company. While my dad was gone, Mom sometimes went with Mr. Swaney to call on Dad’s customers so they wouldn’t forget about him and so that she could help with the sales. Mom hired a young woman as a full-time housekeeper and nanny as she was so busy with her two jobs.

Mom wanted to go see Dad before he began Officer Candidate School in Oklahoma, so she gave her housekeeper/nanny a few days off, checked me into the Pediatric Department of the hospital, with the approval of our family physician, and boarded a train for OK, making the last leg of the trip on a bus. It was the first time she’d been on such a long trip away from home by herself.

Mom’s ticket

My hospital record.

And why did I have an x-ray? I haven’t the faintest idea!

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We Three

After OCS, Dad applied for flight training, and went to a training camp near Denton TX. Mom put the furniture in storage with Dad’s parents and moved the two of us to Denton; later we moved back to OK where Dad completed flight training. Then it was back to Texas once again until the call came for his division to ship out.

When Dad shipped overseas, Mom and I lived with her parents, and Mom worked with my grandfather. My brother Dennis was born while Dad was overseas, and Mom was amazed to see a big bouquet of red roses delivered to the hospital from her thoughtful husband!

Another We Three

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My Mom’s family

Mom and John in the back Grandma, Grandpa, Dale in the center Patty and Evelyn in the front

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After Dennis was born, Mom had three more children, each about 2 years apart - Bob, Mary Ellen, and George, Jr, born on my dad’s birthday, Sept. 24th. Dad went back to work for Mr. Swaney, but he soon was granted the opportunity to buy the business.

Growng it required him to be gone a lot, so Mom was often in charge. While she didn’t work outside the home anymore, she sure worked hard in it!

She had to maintain order with us five “little Indians” as well as be ready to go out with my dad to entertain customers or have a group in our home for eats and drinks. We lived in a duplex with an unfinished basement, a kitchen, dining room, and living room on the main floor, and 4 bedrooms on the second floor plus one bathroom with a tub (no shower!). Mary Ellen and I shared a room. At times we were a handful. This picture show four of the five - Me, Dennis, Bob and Mary Ellen. George was not yet born.

As you can see, we were pretty spiffed up and looking good. When we went out as a family, Dad always liked us clean and dressed up. And, of course, that was Mom’s job. I think that each of us four were pretty good about staying clean and dressed, either because we recognized that Mom was the boss or we’d have a taste of her paddle.

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George was a different story! Mom told our neighbor once that she could clean him up first, but then he would disappear and come back all bedraggled by the time the other four were done, or she’d get us ready, but by that time, George would be no place to be found. So one day she cleaned him up first, took him outside, and tied him to a tree at the side of our property. She was working on the rest of us when a rather irate woman came to the door and berated my mother for tying her son to a tree. Well, you didn’t give my mom “what for” without getting a reaction! She apparently told the woman, “I’ve got four other children to clean up and I have to get all of them ready to join my husband for dinner out. If you want this youngest to stay clean and stay in sight, then YOU WATCH HIM!” Unfortunately, George is no longer with us, so he can’t refute Mom’s story.

As I said, Mom worked hard at keeping the five of us in hand. She did have a paddle and I remember the sting of it a few times. But I always felt safe and loved, and I’m sure my siblings did too. We had some great times as a family on vacations to Lake Okoboji for a week at Vacation Village. This was back when VV had a club house and small cabins with a tiny kitchen, a living room and 2 or 3 bedrooms. Probably not a vacation for Mom, taking care of the five of us and going to VV’s laundromat to do the washing and drying!

But we kids had a blast!

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We also got in on a small part of the fun when my parents entertained at home. When they had a cocktail party at home, we would always be upstairs in the hallway listening to the adults talk. Then Mom would call us downstairs (clean and dressed up, of course) to meet the guests for a little while. Then it was upstairs for us to get ready for bed. The party usually moved on to go to dinner, and after Mom and Dad came up to say a quick good night, we were free to come back downstairs and sample the food from the cocktail party and then help our sitter clean up the plates, glasses, napkins. We thought it was a pretty fair deal, even though this was before the day of the dishwasher!

Although we lived in many homes - from Churdan, IA to Denton, TX, the house I remember the most was the one at 1628 2nd Ave. N. in Fort Dodge, IA. I lived here from grade school days through college, until Steve and I got married. This is a picture of the house.

It might look big, but remember, it is a duplex as described earlier. We lived on the right side and enjoyed a side porch where many a day-long Monopoly game would be played with neighborhood kids. I think this porch probably saved Mom’s sanity a few times as it gave much more living space on the main floor! If you look carefully, you can see on the far right, the infamous tree to which Mom tied George, Jr.!

As we grew, Mom continued to make sure we did our homework, were polite to the neighbors, and, best of all, she made each of us feel special. She was a great cook, she was our defender when other kids got into fights with us, she attended a multitude of baseball games (which we had to attend as a family to cheer on the boys), she taught me to sew and introduced me to a neighbor who taught me to knit. And she supported our dad until the day he died; I have the utmost respect and love for her, and at my grand old age of 78, I still miss her very much!

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Chapter Three My Dad My dad was very proud of his Irish heritage, and he taught us kids Irish and WWII songs, usually when we were on a road trip with him. He also told us the story of his dad who emigrated from Ireland to the U.S. Apparently, his father, Daniel Lawler, was neither the oldest or the youngest child in the family in County Leish (or Laois in Gaelic), so his prospects were not too great; his oldest brother would inherit the land, and he was not selected to become a priest. So Daniel, when he considered himself old enough, took two cows from the farm and drove them to the waterfront where he sold them for passage to America. Once there, he traveled to Iowa where he worked for a farmer who was a family friend, and eventually bought a farm. He eventually repaid his father for the cattle and later traveled back to Ireland to see his parents and get their forgiveness for his theft and their blessing.

Is this story of the cattle a true one? I don’t know, but it was told to us several time with an admonishment for us kids. “Don’t ever get too uppity, because you should always remember that you come from a long line of cattle thieves.”

Unfortunately, when Dad was 7, his father, Daniel, died in a train accident. His mother had to sell off some of the land after his death but managed to hold on to enough to raise her 10 children. His two older brothers took over the farm and helped their mom with the management of the farm. All the kids helped with chores from sunup until they went to school and then came home to more chores.

His brothers also made sure that Dad and his siblings did finish school. After high school, Dad attended business college and started working as a car salesman in Carroll, IA.

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He felt his financial break came when he was offered a job in sales from Blank Swaney in Ft. Dodge. Mr. Swaney owned Swaney Oil Co., which sold barrels of oil and DDT which were stored in the lower level. I don’t know much about the early business, but he worked there until after the war. He eventually bought the business, expanding it to the sale of John Deere industrial and road equipment (snowplows, road graders, etc.), and owned it until he retired, when my mother and brother Bob took over the business as well as a second one in Waterloo, IA. Mom and Dad worked hard when I was little. Dad was a good salesman, and he would win fun trips occasionally. Here Mom and Dad are having a great time on those trips.

I think I got my love of horses from Dad, even when I was little. When we were in Texas, a neighbor had a Tennessee Walker colt which he would occasionally bring over.

I treasure this picture of the two of us!

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Although we shared many good times together, I don’t have a lot of pictures of Dad when I was young. He spent many hours working, and Mom kind of took care of the home front. But I do have a couple of stories about him and me.

One of the few times I saw my dad with tears in his eyes occurred because of a date I had in high school. I was supposed to have a special date with him as a birthday gift, but he stood me up! I was furious, of course. He apologized a few days later (I can’t remember his excuse.) and we planned another date for the following Friday night. He said he was really kind of afraid of my dad, so he would just honk the horn when he got to my house and I should come out. Well, Friday night came and there he was, honking his car horn. My dad happened to be home and asked what that was all about. When I explained, he said, “No boy is going to stand up my daughter and then expect her to go running out to him when he doesn’t have the courage to come in to get her! You and I are going upstairs and wait until that clown either comes in or drives away.” Well, I was mad but knew I had no choice, so upstairs we went with me crying my eyes out!

About five minutes passed and Alan revved up his motor and drove off! My dad turned to me and then I saw the tears in his eyes. He told me that I was someone special and I should NEVER expect that kind of attitude or behavior from any boy. I was worth much more than that! This advice still stands for me and for all women.

I also had a much happier birthday with my dad and mom. They threw a wonderful Sweet Sixteen party for me and a good friend, Sandy Huen, at (I think) our country club in Fort Dodge. Below are a couple of pictures.

Sandy and I presenting our cake

Sandy’s parents next to my dad

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Hope you enjoy these pictures of Dad’s family!

Dad and me - probably in Texas or Oklahoma

Dad’s sisters with Dennis and me in Wall Lake, IA. Monica, Elsie (his brother Ray’s wife), and Josephine

Dad’s family: Back-Vincent Mom, Bob, Dad, and Elsie Monica, Ursula, and Grandma Lawler Front - Dennis and me Must be Bob’s baptism, as Mom is holding him.

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Although Dad was gone most of the time during the week, I do have many good memories of weekends with him. One time, during the summer, he decided to pay us kids to go out and pick dandelions in the yard, and he would pay us a certain amount (I think a quarter) for every sand bucket full of dandelions that we would pick. (Now this was a time when my dad sold weed killer, so it would have been easy, I think, for him to have one of his guys to come over and just spray the yard. Why he didn’t do that, I don’t know. Maybe he just wanted to get us out of the house for a while!) Anyway, off we went to fill up our buckets.

Pretty soon, we started to run out of dandelions, but we lived on a street that had a boulevard running down the side street. So off we went down the boulevard and continued to pick. We ended up with quite a haul and spent the whole afternoon working and got quite a load of dandelions! I thought of that many years later when I married Steve, because his dad used to make dandelion wine! They not only both were John Deere dealers; they both had an affinity for dandelions!!

As I said, my dad sold weed killer in his early years with Blank Swaney. When he worked on the weekends, he used to take Denny and me with him to the office and let us play in the storage area where the drums of weed killer (DDT) and oil were stored.

Probably not the best environment, but people didn’t really know the dangers of DDT back then. I remember when Rachel Carson’s book Silent Spring came out in 1962, and I had some eerie thoughts about what Dennis and I had unwittingly been exposed to!

Dad loved the fourth of July and the fireworks. He would load up us kids and usually our neighbor Mike Mulroney in the car and drive us out into a country field where (as I remember) a friend of his would set off all kinds of glorious fireworks for what seemed to us to be at least an hour. After that, we would go for ice cream and sparklers. I’m sure that the next day Dad certainly had to have his car cleaned inside and out, but he never said anything to us!

I’m sure my siblings have different memories of our father, but he was always my knight in shining armor. He defended me always, he drove me to and from college when we had wonderful discussions about life, we would get up to watch the sun come up together when we took a vacation together in the Ozarks and I learned to drink coffee with him and to enjoy his view of life. He always admired my husband and loved trading John Deere stories with Steve’s dad on the few occasions when they got together. He so much looked forward to Christmases with the grandchildren gathered around; family meant everything to him! For years I felt a physical crack in my heart when we visited our home in Fort Dodge and, gathering in our dining room, I had to face Dad’s empty chair. I loved him very much and still miss him!

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Chapter 4 Growing Up in Iowa I was born in Mercy Hospital in Fort Dodge, Iowa in 1942 during WWII, and my dad enlisted in the service when I was just a toddler. Soon after, he was shipped overseas, and I didn’t see him for a couple of years, after my brother Dennis was born.

My original birth certificate looks a bit worse for the wear, but it is over 78 years old at the time of this writing!

While I’ve always gone by Margaret Anne, you’ll note that my birth certificate says “Margaret Ann!” Things happened back then before the digital age, and they just never got corrected!

This was sent home to my mom and me on my first Christmas, and Mom kept it in my baby book. So sweet!

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After Dad was shipped overseas, Mom and I stayed with her parents, Russell and Emma Lundy in Churdan, Iowa, where I had Grandpa’s dog Skippy, my Aunt Pat, and my cousins Beth, Cathy, and Ramona Tasler to play with. I had so much fun with them.

Cathy and I are the same age, and Beth and Pat are a year or two apart, so Cathy and I had a great time teasing and bedeviling Beth and Pat through the years with Monie tailing along and trying to keep up! Even when we moved back to Fort Dodge, I would love going to spend a week or two with my Tasler cousins in the summer!

After Dad came home, we moved back to Fort Dodge and became members of Corpus Christi Church, and when the time came, we Lawler children attended Corpus Christi grade school and church. Corpus Christi Church, on the National Register is, unfortunately, to be torn down this year (2020). I was baptized here, attended Mass and was married here, so this is sad for me. It was a beautiful church with many memories.

The lovely Marian grotto beside Corpus Christi Church During our lunch hours, we (mostly the girls) would gather to say a Novena, and in October we would say a decade of the rosary.

We didn’t have playground equipment, so this gave us something to do!

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All five of us Lawler children attended Corpus Christi School from first through eighth grade. There was no kindergarten, and the classrooms were very full! These were the days when poodle skirts were in style, and girls would wear several starched crinolines (or underskirts) beneath them so the skirts would flair out. But because the classrooms were so crowded, we were banned from wearing more than 2 crinolines to school!

In seventh grade, I had 50 kids in my classroom, and the only way we could fit was to have rows of desks pushed together with the rows spaced in between every two desks.

Now, you would think that bedlam reigned, but not so! We were taught by BVM nuns (Sisters of the Blessed Virgin Mary), and they could rule with an iron fist if need be and a wooden ruler to the palm of your hand at the front of the room if you needed it.

This is a photo of a BVM sister to show you what their habits (or clothing) looked like. You would think that with that headdress on, they wouldn’t be able to see much. You would be wrong! But they were also loving and caring teachers and managed to control and teach the unruly mob we were and give us a really good education!

We learned grammar, math, science, and all of the basics to prepare us for high school.

And, although we didn’t have the best playground equipment, we learned how to get along with each other, to be kind, and to say our prayers faithfully. If we didn’t, a note went home to Mom and Dad, and we got doubly punished! In those days, you didn’t argue with the teacher!!

By the end of eighth grade I knew how to compound interest semi-annually, to diagram not only a sentence but a poem, to read rudimentary Latin, to identify countries on a globe, to play the clarinet, and to play a pretty mean game of dodge ball. And we learned that the big kids took care of the little ones. When we went to Mass, the eighth graders each took a first grader with them and made sure the little ones learned how to behave in church. (Although once I became a teacher in a Catholic school and did the same with my students, I learned that this was a sneaky way of getting the eighth graders to behave in Mass! Each of them was separated by one or two fidgety first graders or by that time, kindergartners- to keep under control!) It was a very good system!

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Then it was on to the newly built St. Edmond High School! The three local Catholic high schools had been combined to form one larger school just a year before my freshman year. It was a time of change and meeting new people. I loved it!

Our athletic teams were The Gaels.

We went to the Laramar Ballroom on Friday nights or Sunday afternoons to dance and listen to Jerry Lee Lewis, Ritchie Valens, The Big Bopper, and lots of big bands from all over. Loved it!

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I also loved going to the local roller-skating rink, and I went practically every week.

I am on the left, and my best friend, Carole Meader, is on the right. Yes, we did wear cute little skirts, and we not only skated, we could go backwards, twirl, and do dance skating! We loved it!

One story about Carole and me. My mom would take us to the rink and pick us up when they closed, about 8 p.m. I think. Carole and I really liked two boys, so one night we snuck out of the rink early and went out to the drive-in for fries and a coke. (We were 15, and they were 16 and could drive.) When we got back the rink was closing, so we snuck in through the back door. Sure enough, there was my mom looking for us!

She asked where we had been, and we told her we were in the bathroom. She said for us to get in the car; when we did, she just sat there and told us she had been in the bathroom looking for us. We finally had to fess up and tell her the truth. I begged her not to tell my dad.

She said she wouldn’t tell him if we promised we wouldn’t sneak out again, and we agreed right away. Interestingly, the following Sunday afternoon, my parents and Carole’s got together at Carole’s house. I was also invited, but after getting drinks for everyone, Carole’s mom said we could go; they just wanted to visit. About an hour later, she called us and said to come back in with the adults. They announced that we were 15 and not really allowed to date for another few months until we turned 16. But if we double dated with each other and the boys, we could go out - just not singly. We agreed with alacrity! (Mom never said anything, but I know she told Dad and also told him they’d better make a compromise. After all, we did tell the truth and that was highly valued by both of our parents!) We couldn’t wait to tell the boys, and we did double date for quite a while.

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There was also a phenomenon in Ft. Dodge called “Shaggin’ the Drag.” Our downtown had one main street and teenagers would ride up and down that street on Sunday afternoons when the stores were closed. That’s when learned who was dating whom - you’d see her in the car with her boyfriend. Lots of honking going on!

There was a square block at the beginning of the main street and a town square at the end of it, so it worked perfectly for driving up and down. One time, my cousin Cathy (from Churdan) and I rode up and down with two boys from Churdan. When my then boyfriend heard about it, he wasn’t too happy. But the boy I was with was named Kenny Lawler, so I just told my boyfriend that he was a cousin from out of town! And it worked! Thanks, Cathy.

The downtown was pretty vibrant in the 50s with a movie theater, bowling alley, and many nice stores. I worked at Fantle’s and bought my wedding dress at Lillian’s, both in downtown Fort Dodge. We were the largest town in the area, so many people came to FD to shop. Not on Sundays though, because back then most stores were closed on Sunday!

Those were almost idyllic days in my memories 26

We also just loved hanging around the house as kids.

Here are some silly but fun pix!

One Halloween, I went out as a guy and brother Dennis went as a girl. We had a fun time!

Don’t know if I’m baking or doing dishes, but I guess I thought I was hot stuff!

And like all teenagers phone time!

Dancing and horsing around with brother Bob.

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We had a great time growing up in Iowa. We had what we thought was a huge back yard with lots of neighbor kids to play with. We did all the usual games of the 50s Kick the Can, Ollie, Ollie In Free, etc. One summer we put on a circus for the neighborhood! I was the ring master and even had my own costume, thanks to the ingenuity of Mom! Our best trick was “The Magic Growing Machine.” Dennis was hidden in the box in his boy scout uniform. Bob, also in his scout uniform would climb into the box on top of him. Then, after I waved my wand, Bob would climb out and prance around, then hide behind the grape arbor behind us. After a minute or so and a drum roll, out would climb Dennis and surprise everyone! We got a big round of applause every time!

For some reason, Dennis isn’t in this picture. He might be taking the picture, or he might have just wandered off - who knows?

We had a popular drive-in restaurant in Fort Dodge, Iowa, called The Dog House. I often went there for hamburgers, hot dogs, etc., either with a date or with girlfriends. I thought it would be a cool place to work, so I persuaded my parents that I was old enough to do this and it would be a safe place to work because so many of my friends went there. The pay wasn't that great, but you got to keep your tips, and some friends who worked there told me that some of the adults tipped quite high.

I finally convinced my dad that I was old enough to work, and I convinced the manager of the restaurant that I would be a great car hop. (We didn't wear roller skate like you 28

see in some older movies, but I think we did have a uniform.) I was around 16 at the time; I don't remember if I could drive or if my mom took me to work around 5 and picked me up at 9 or 10 when things closed down. I loved the job! Music was playing, a lot of my friends worked with me, and many other friends came and ordered. My friends were right about the tips; I once got a $10.00 tip which was enormous in that day and age!

It worked like the drive-ins still do today, but without computers. When someone ordered food, I would take the order in to the cooks; the orders were strung up on a wire, and when they were up, I would collect the food and drinks, put them on a special tray and deliver them to the correct car. The tray was taken to the driver's side. He or she paid me for the order, rolled the window up a bit, and I hooked the tray onto the window.

When they were finished with their food, I'd come to pick up the tray.

My job didn't last very long, however. After a week or two, my dad started complaining that he hadn't seen me for days. I went to work before he got home, and by the time I got home, he was already in bed. He said he missed seeing me around, and I really needed to turn in my notice and find a job someplace else!

My dad never yelled at me or was harsh, but I always tried to obey him, so that was the end of my days of being a car hop! I might have flirted a bit with customers, but my dad was #1 in my book. On to a new career!

I've always loved clothes, so I decided to apply for a job at Fantle Brother’s Department Store next. At this time, (some 60 years ago), downtown Fort Dodge was the shopping mecca of much of central Iowa (other than the capital city of Des Moines, of course). We had several big stores - Gates Department Store, Gambles, the Boston Store, and smaller stores like Fantle’s and Lillian’s which sold bridal gowns and designer clothing. The owner of Fantle's had a son in my class, and my dad also knew Don Fantle, one of the owners. I had an in! After one interview, I was hired.

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I loved working at Fantle's. I got a 20% discount on clothes, we got to see and put back all the latest things when they came in, and we paid the store price minus our discount much less than the customer price. I don't think I ever took home much of a paycheck; most of it went for paying off my store account!

I once asked my dad if he minded my not actually making much money to bring home.

He said no, because if I weren't buying these clothes, he'd probably be doing it anyway, so I was actually saving him money! He also said he was so glad I only worked after school until 5 except on Mondays when the store was open late. I was finally home before he was, so I could tell him about my day. He enjoyed spending the evenings with all of his kids. So this was a good change!

I said that this was about 60 years ago, and things were a lot different than they are now. Fantle's wasn't an especially large store, but they carried brands and the quality of clothing that people loved. As a result, women, young and old, from Fort Dodge and miles around came here to shop and have lunch on Main Street.

I worked with a couple of other girls my age as well as several older women. We loved going upstairs and unpacking the new merchandise because we got to see all the new clothes pre-season, and we got to pick out our new wardrobes at a great discount before anyone else was able to buy the latest fashions. I loved this part of the job the best.

Much better than refolding the sweater table just to watch someone come and undo all of my hard work as she searched for just the right size and color sweater on that table!

One of my customers told me that she always looked for me to wait on her because I was honest. She said other sales clerks told her everything looked good on her; then when she got home, many times her husband would point out why he didn't like the outfit on her, so she would return it. But, she said, I always told her if a color or fit was not right for her. She said I always did this with respect, and then I would bring her alternatives. And, she told me, she almost never returned anything that she brought from me. That made me really proud!

We didn't have computers, so things were a bit different when someone bought an outfit or an article of clothing. We had to record their total and compute the tax (all with the use of our little brains!) and give the receipt to the customer. They would give us their payment and we would put the money and the receipt in a small canister attached to a wire which whooshed up to the main office on a balcony above us.

When we hit a button, the canister would fly up to the second-floor balcony; someone up there recorded the money, and the canister was returned to our counter with the change and the receipt stamped PAID.

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My boss, Don Fantle, was a nice man, and he was great to work for. I worked at Fantle's all through high school and in the summers when I went away to college.

I was also active in music in high school. I sang in our triple trio and in chorus, and I played in the band. I had taken clarinet lessons since fourth grade and continued through high school, playing in the concert and marching bands and competing in many solo contests in our diocese competitions. We traveled to other schools for competitions and met other kids from lots of other schools, so it was a social thing as well as a love of music that made all of this fun. My best friend, Ann McCarville, and I were always competing and challenging each other for the first chair clarinet spot, so I was very happy that this picture of our senior band picture was taken when I happened to be in the first chair spot! Most of my best friends in high school were either in band or in music, and we had some great times together!

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Chapter Five College Years I graduated from St. Edmond High School in Fort Dodge in 1960.

After high school, I attended and graduated from Clarke College in Dubuque, Iowa. We were taught mainly by BVM nuns (as I was in high school), and at least one nun lived on each dorm floor with us. It was then an all-girls Catholic College. It has now become co-ed and is Clarke University.

During my freshman year of college, I was invited back to St. Edmond’s to be part of a panel to talk to students about college life. It was a great day, and we had a lot of fun and got some strange questions!

I am seated on the far right.

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Clarke College was a very different milieu from my co-ed high school. It was all female for one thing.

The rules were different for me since it was a boarding school. We did not have cars, so if we wanted to go to downtown Dubuque, we needed to take a cab or a bus.

We did not wear uniforms, but we were required to wear skirts on campus. We had underground tunnels which connected the different buildings. If we wanted to go to the pool, we could wear slacks in the tunnel; the same was true if we wanted to go sunbathing in a back area provided for that. But otherwise, skirts to class and to dinner.

The rules were quite strict as to curfew. We had to be in by 8 pm on weekdays, 12 on Fridays and Saturdays, and 11 on Sundays, as I recall.

The most incredible thing was that we had an Honor System in place, and it seemed to work very well. For example, when test time came around, our teacher would come into the classroom, pass out the test questions and one “blue book,” in which we were to write our answers, She would leave extra blue books on the front desk, smile, wish us good luck, and leave the room! We were free to leave when we finished our tests; we were to put our blue books on the desk (putting our name on each book, of course) and leave our test papers on the desk as well. After two hours passed, the teacher would come back to the room to collect all the test papers and blue books. At that time, if you weren’t finished, you still had to hand in your books. I don’t recall ever seeing anyone looking over to someone else’s paper!

We were on the Honor System throughout our days and nights at Clarke. If we got in after curfew, we were to come back early the next time - double the minutes we were late. Drinking was not allowed unless you were fifty miles from Clarke and visiting someone’s home. We used to go with our dates (who did have cars) across the Mississippi River to East Dubuque, IL, where the drinking age was 18. I remember sitting at long tables or booths there, and the guys who were with Clarke girls would pass them maraschino cherries, orange and lime slices and other fruits from their drinks. (Eating the liquor-soaked fruit from the drinks wasn’t considered drinking!)

Steve attended the neighboring men’s school, Loras College, which was about a mile from Clarke. I met him one night at our Student Union and we dated for the three years that he was at Loras; he then went to medical school at the University of Iowa, and it became long distance dating.

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Living at Clarke was a whole new experience for me. My freshman year was especially so. I had FIVE roommates! Now, I was the oldest of five children, and I had shared a bedroom with my little sister but learning to get along with four other women was something else again! Fortunately, our room was big, and we got along reasonably well.

We did have one girl from a suburb of Chicago who was rather difficult. She had never done her own laundry before, and she came back in tears one afternoon. She had done a load of her “intimates,” and had thrown a pair of red panties and a bra in with everything else. (She had bras and panties of every color, and they all were matching.) Well, she was heartbroken, because now everything was PINK. We did sympathize with her on that one, but she didn’t have to be so careful about her underwear choices after that.

Our room had one secret that we loved. This dorm was very old, and we discovered that behind one of the big closets, there was an open space between the inner and outer wall of the building that allowed us to walk all the way down past several neighboring rooms. We loved to go in there behind the closet with our flashlights and make spooky noises to scare our neighboring classmates. Eventually one of the nuns found out what we were doing, and we were forbidden to do it anymore.

Clarke’s tunnels allowed us to go from one building to another during the winter when the snow made it difficult to get around. This might sound spooky, but the tunnels were well lit and well used, so they weren’t scary at all. In fact, they were fun and helpful.

We also dressed for dinner on Saturday and Sunday nights, which meant not only skirts, but nylons and nice clothing. A senior girl was assigned to each table, and she was to make sure that conversation flowed smoothly and everyone was included in the flow of the talk at the table. The Loras boys loved to be invited to these meals because Friday nights were fun and Saturday nights were more formal meals and most often delicious. We loved having the boys for dinner also, because it was a bit prestigious to have a man at your table!

John Kennedy was President at this time, and the media often referred to this time as “Camelot.” For me, living at Clarke was like living in Camelot! Except for the early curfews, I must say, these were some of the best four years of my life. After my freshman year, I moved into one of the newer dorms and roomed first with Ann McCarville from Iowa and then Martha Dickey from Chicago, two women who would become good friends for many years. Martha and I traveled to Chicago to meet my dad and stay with my Aunt Jo for a night and then spend a few days with her parents in a Chicago suburb.

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That was a fun time! Ann married a man who was an engineer in California and Martha, unfortunately, died a few years ago from cancer. She was a fun roommate and a lovely lady.

I was a science major wanting to become a vet, and Steve started out in engineering. He soon decided that wasn’t for him, and he switched to pre-med and was loaded with science classes. When he took quantitative analysis classes, we spent many a Saturday and/or Sunday in the science lab because he had to analyze unknown substances to find out how much of a given substance was in them. This often took several hours!

But it wasn’t all study. There were also parties and fun!

Here we girls are all dressed up for a dance at Clarke. I am on the far right in the first picture and in the center in the second picture. Full skirts with lots of crinolines (starched petticoats) were still in style. You had to be careful when you sat down or your skirt would poof right to your head!

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One of my favorite things was going to see Steve’s parents. They lived in Monticello, not too far from Dubuque, but past the 50-mile mark! We would often spend a Sunday there or even go for a weekend. He, like I, was the oldest of a family of five children, having three brothers and one sister, so I felt right at home immediately. We had so much in common that it was almost scary!

We are in Monticello in

front of Steve’s house.

When Steve and I first met, we were both dating other people from our home towns (Fort Dodge and Monticello). We broke up before Christmas vacation and wanted to sort things out before we made a life decision. Several months after that, right as we were pretty much getting back together, we traveled together to a National Federation of Catholic College Students for a weekend meeting. This NFCCS, as it was called was in another town and we traveled by bus, well chaperoned by several priests and some Floor Advisors from Clarke. Why didn’t some nuns go? I either don’t know or don’t remember.

Anyway, we decided that we’d better have a pretty serious talk about things, because if we did get back together in a serious way, we’d most likely end up getting married. So, after one of the afternoon meetings, we met in the lobby of the hotel where we were all staying, and we had a long talk. We discussed the fact that if he went to medical school and practiced, I would have to realize that sometimes his patients would have to come first. We also talked about having children and the fact that I would most likely have to work while he went to med school. We talked about religion, being absolutely faithful to one another, and myriads of other things. I’ve often felt that this was one of the really great things we did, and I’ve always thought that more young people should do so.

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It was after that talk that I switched my major from Biology to English. We couldn’t both go to school after college, since neither we nor our parents could afford for us to do that. Remember, we were both the oldest of five, so our parents were looking at eight more children to educate. I had also thought that I would finish my final year of college at The University of Iowa since that’s where Steve was going to med school, and since it was a lot less than Clarke. Then we could get married in 1963 rather than in ’64, and our parents could help us out for a year.

We visited Monticello whenever we got a chance and I enjoyed getting to know his parents, getting out of the dorms, and just having a good time relaxing.

Well, we were very disappointed that almost none of my lovely Catholic college credits in Religion, Ethics, etc. would transfer to allow me to graduate in one year. It would take an extra year of study at Iowa for me to graduate. I decided to stay at Clarke for my senior year and Steve would be able to go to med school after three years at Loras.

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Chapter Six Engagement and Marriage 1962-63 was kind of a happy/sad year; we had lots of things to do together. Steve finally had a car so we could go exploring! And we had time to plan our wedding and our lives together - where we would live and where I would work while he was going to school.

I was so excited for Christmas vacation to come around that year. Steve had planned to come to Fort Dodge for part of the vacation, and I just knew I was going to be flashing an engagement ring when I went back to Dubuque! But alas, the vacation came and went and no ring - not even the mention of one. I was kind of mystified and went back to college in January to ooh and ah over my friends’ rings and talk of marriage after graduation the following year.

Steve came again to Fort Dodge to visit right after my junior year ended, and he ended up proposing in a romantic way and presenting me with a ring! We had gone out for dinner with my family, and then we decided to go for a drive near our country club and stopped at the top of a hill overlooking the city lights of Fort Dodge; it was a beautiful and magical place. He then proposed and gave me a beautiful engagement ring with a square-cut diamond solitaire. I think I cried a little. I asked Steve why he didn’t do this at Christmas time. His answer was that he knew I was expecting this, to be like the other girls, and he wanted to make his proposal more special. To this day, he’s remained good at surprising me, and I love it - most of the time!

We went back to my house to tell my parents the news. Dad (as usual) was already in bed, and I think Mom was in her usual spot, ironing in the living room. I went up and told my dad and showed him the ring. He looked at me for a bit and then asked a question. He said, “Do you truly love this guy?” I replied yes, and then he said he was happy for me, but it was going to be hard to lose his first-born daughter. We had a big hug together, and then we celebrated the next day.

The next fall I returned to Clarke (where I certainly enjoyed showing off my ring) and Steve went to Iowa City where he became a member of the Nu Sigma Nu fraternity and began his freshman year in medical school.

We would travel back and forth between Iowa City and Dubuque when we were able (which wasn’t very often) and it looked like it would be a long year!

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I remember one visit vividly, even after these 50+ years. It was the weekend of the Iowa-Notre Dame football game and a friend of mine offered me a ride to Iowa City for a long weekend. About halfway to Iowa City, the music station we were listening to broke in with the news that President John Kennedy had been shot while he was riding in a motorcade with Jackie, the First Lady! It was horrifying, and we listened to the news reports as we sped to Iowa City.

Kennedy and Mrs. Kennedy (Jackie) were in Texas for a campaign trip, and this day they were in Dallas. They were riding in a motorcade with Texas Governor John Connally and his wife. Since it was such a beautiful day, the plastic bubble over the convertible had been removed; the Kennedys were in the back seat; the Conallys were in front.

Shots rang out and President Kennedy slumped into Jackie’s lap. The car drove to Parkland Memorial Hospital, and Kennedy was pronounced dead at 1 p.m.

We got to Iowa City about this time, and my friend let me off at Steve’s Nu Sigma Nu fraternity house. We saw so many in tears, and we spent the afternoon watching things on TV. I will never forget the sight of Jackie Kennedy wearing her beautiful pink suit splotched all over with her husband’s blood.

The next day, Saturday, the football game was, of course, called off. I think it was the first time that an Iowa vs. Notre Dame game had been cancelled. We spent the day and evening glued to the TV at the fraternity. Lyndon Johnson was sworn in as the new President and the country was in shock. On Sunday, Kennedy’s assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, was killed as he was being transferred to jail by Jack Ruby, a local bar owner.

The transfer of Oswald was being televised, and so the whole nation watched he was shot.

Kennedy’s body was taken on a caisson followed by a riderless horse to Arlington Cemetery where he was buried. Interestingly, the horse, Black Jack, a fixture at the funerals of three presidents, was buried near Arlington National Cemetery following his death in 1976. He is one of only two horses ever accorded a funeral with full honors by the U.S. military. (U.S. Army photo) 40

The funeral was planned by Jackie Kennedy, and it was modeled after the burial of President Lincoln. The country mourned at the funeral as John Jr. saluted his father’s casket on his third birthday, and little Caroline knelt beside her mother as Jackie laid a hand on her husband’s casket before it was lowered into the ground.

I write this story in 2020, the year of the coronavirus, named COVID19, when people are frightened, self-quarantined, and the phrase “social distancing” has become part of our new way of life. We are watching protests, looting, property destruction and burning. But we have see all of this before. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The decade of the 60s was frightening as well. The war in Viet Nam was raging, and many American boys who didn’t believe in the morality of American involvement in this war were going to Canada to escape the draft. College students, and others, were marching on campuses.

The Civil Rights Movement was gaining strength, and Martin Luther King gave his famous “I Have a Dream” speech at the Lincoln Memorial in 1963. Little Black children were being harassed as they tried to enter public schools under court order. Mr. King would later be assassinated in 1968, as would be President Kennedy’s brother Robert Kennedy.

But many good and happy things happened as well. The Beatles were taking America by storm, Sidney Poitier won an Oscar for best actor in “Lilies of the Field,” and we were making great strides in the space program. One of the happiest memories for me was that Steve and I got married on August 17, 1964, at Corpus Christi Church in Fort Dodge, Iowa.

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Our engagement was published in the Fort Dodge Messenger on January 11, 1964, and Mom, Dad and I got busy with the 6 months of planning.

I wanted one of the slim, sheath style wedding dresses, but my mom had other ideas. She always told me to wear a full skirt when I went to the dances because they always looked prettier when you twirled. And I guess the same was true for the wedding dress! She insisted that a fuller profile was timeless and more elegant. When she and Dad were married, it was the time of WW2, and she wore

Mom and Dad’s Wedding.

They are on the right; my Uncle Ray and Aunt

Ursula on the left.

a burgundy dress (quite pretty, I thought!) which was a sheath style. I guess she wanted to relive her dreams through me. So off went to Lillian’s Dress Shop in Fort Dodge to find the perfect dress.

Steve’s mom came from Monticello, IA, so she could help decide. I think we chose pretty well. We also went to the baker and the florist and got everything in order. We three were all set! I loved having Steve’s mom in on the action. Steve’s parents only lived a short drive from Iowa City, and they became like second parents to me. We got the church arranged (Corpus Christi, where I had attended grade school), and we were assured that Monsignor McEvoy could preside. I had known him for years, and he managed our PreCana meetings (required by the Catholic Church). I thought we had done a great job of planning.

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We were married August 17, 1964. Our first attendants were our college roommates - David Vickers was Best Man and Martha Dickey was our Maid of Honor. My bridesmaids were my sister Mary Ellen, Steve’s sister Teresa, and a good high school friend, Mary Lou Arnold. Steve’s Groomsmen were his brother Paul and two of my brothers, Dennis and George, Jr. Ushers were Steve’s brother Mark and our good friend, Terry Allen. Our altar servers were to be my brother Bob and Steve’s brother Mark. However, a week or so before the wedding, Bob had a swim related accident at the county club pool and ended up on crutches! So we had the brother of a good friend of mine, Jim Hassett, fill in for Bob.

Mom fixing my veil

Dad walking me up the aisle

The happy bride and groom coming down the aisle

Dad walking me up the aisle

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Our altar servers Steve’s brother John and Terry Allen Bride and Groom Our ushers, Steve’s brother Mark and Jim Hassett (My brother Bob got to wear his tux as he sat in a pew holding his crutches!)

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The Wedding Party Bridesmaids Teresa, Mary Lou and Mary Ellen with Maid of Honor Martha The Bride and Groom Best Man David with Groomsmen Paul, Dennis and George, Jr.

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Our portrait with our parents.

From the left, my dad, my mom, me, Steve, his mom and his dad. What a happy, holy day. We have been blessed for 56 years on August 17, 2020! Our parents have all left this earth, but we thank them for all they have given us, most of all, each other!

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After the wedding, we were ecstatic! We had a wonderful limo ride to the Fort Dodge Country Club where our reception was held. Back in those days, the reception was an afternoon affair with little sandwiches, cookies, nuts and, of course - wedding cake.

At the end of the reception, we were greeted by the sight of Steve’s black Ford, expertly decorated by the young men at the wedding. Mark had a big smile on his face, because he was in on a little secret!

Instead of taking Steve’s car, Mark and his dad had hidden his dad’s car someplace safe.

We had the last laugh when we got in that beautiful white car and drove off for our honeymoon!

We nearly had a tragedy though, as we were leaving.

My youngest brother George, Jr., was nearly run over by Steve! As we were driving off, he jumped in front of the car to try to do some decorating with shaving cream and toilet paper.

Fortunately, we were able to avoid him and drove off for a great week-long honeymoon before setting in as a married couple in Iowa City.

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All grown up and married right???

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Chapter Seven Married Life We had a great time on our honeymoon in The Wisconsin Dells, but we were happy to head home and jump into this new married life. At age 22, we loved being adults and probably thought we knew it all!

We had bought a 10 X 50 trailer earlier in the summer and I spent much of my time with my mom making curtains, gathering things together that we would need and buying a few essential pieces of furniture. Looking back on it, a 500 square foot home sounds incredibly small, but for two kids starting out, we thought it was great. I had all the things we needed in a new home - a kitchen, small living room, complete bathroom, a master bedroom, and another small bedroom we converted into a study for Steve. We thought we had it made.

We lived just outside of Iowa City in a nice trailer park that had paved roads and sidewalks and a parking space for our one car. I would usually take Steve to the hospital where he was a 2nd year medical student, and then I would go to St. Mary’s grade school where I taught 7th and 8th grade English. The school was K - 8, and the junior high kids had their own 2nd floor area with four teachers - English, Math, Science and Social Studies. It was quite an old school taught by several nuns who lived in the convent right next door.

A primary teacher, Sharon Bailey, was married to Duane, a classmate of Steve’s. We quickly became friends as we shared our lunches in the convent. We didn’t eat with the nuns; a student would bring our lunches from the cafeteria and we would eat in a nice sitting room at the front of the convent. The nuns ate in a separate room and during their lunch, as we later learned, were glued to “As the World Turns” on the tv set!

Sharon and I both found out we were pregnant late in the fall with both of our babies due about the same time in the summer. We were both glad we wouldn’t have to miss school because we relied on the $300 a month paycheck we received. Yes, that’s $300 a month, and it was for ten months! When we didn’t teach, we didn’t get paid.

We worked hard and made friends with a lot of the couples who belonged to Steve’s fraternity, Nu Sigma Nu. The year sped by and when Christmas arrived, we spent time with both of our families. Steve’s parents lived in Monticello, IA, not too far from Iowa City and mine lived in Fort Dodge. After Christmas, we returned to our “now normal” life of studying, teaching, and having fun with friends.

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A Great Party at the Nu Sig House in Iowa City Steve is kneeling down at the far left, and I am standing right behind him.

Two couples shown below were great friends of ours - Bob and Bette Burgfechtel and Terry and Marcia Allen. Bob & Bette now live in Florida, and we still see them!

Marcia & Terry Allen

Bob & Bette Burgfechtel

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Shortly after the first of January, the principal of my school came to the door on Friday morning and said that Steve was coming to pick me up. Sister Pat said there was some kind of an incident at the trailer park - nothing serious - but she wanted both of us to go there together. Steve had a short day that Friday, so he had taken the car and had dropped me off earlier that morning.

As we neared the trailer court, Steve explained that there had been a fire in our trailer and he thought that much of it had burned. Sister didn’t tell me this because she knew I was pregnant, even though I wasn’t yet wearing maternity clothes, and she didn’t want me to get the news without being with Steve.

As we drove to our spot in the trailer court, we were met with a dismaying sight. Our trailer looked to be completely destroyed and it was surrounded by police cars and fire engines. One of our neighbors had called the fire department when they noticed heat and smoke.

When the firemen had arrived, one of them broke a window because the door was of course locked. When that window broke, the fire reacted with the outside air and a conflagration ensued. It was so hot that it melted some of the siding of the neighbor’s trailer. For all we could see, everything in our trailer was gone! Our lives had suddenly changed! We had no home, no clothing, no grooming essentials - nothing!

What to do? We called Steve’s parents (Margaret and Ed) in Monticello, and they would soon be there to help in any way they could. That’s just the way they were! I loved them then, and my love continued to grow over the years. We called my parents as well, who lived a couple of hours away. They were terribly upset as well and told us they would do whatever we needed; just let them know. My mom really wanted me to call my doctor to make sure all was well with my pregnancy, but we didn’t feel that was necessary; I wasn’t in shock, just very sad about our loss.

The firemen were great. They explained what probably happened. The terribly cold night (or early morning) in January most likely caused the underfloor fire pot (which supplied heat to the trailer) to burn so hot that it burned through the flooring and smoldered all night and into the next day, not erupting into flame until the window was broken when the air combined with the overheated conditions. Apparently, it was smoldering for quite some time when the neighbor saw the smoke and called the fire department. The firemen told us we were very fortunate that it didn’t happen in the middle of the night and that we were gone when it did erupt.

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The police and firemen said they would keep an eye on things, but at that moment it was too much of a hot spot for anyone to go through things. By that time Steve’s parents had arrived, so we went with them to Monticello for the time being. We made a trip to downtown Monticello to buy toothbrushes and toothpaste, some makeup, underwear and a few articles of clothing. As I said, we had nothing but the clothes on our back and a bit of money in the bank.

This was before the days of all the concerns and restrictions about pregnancies, so I’m sure that when we got to Monticello, Ed made drinks for everyone, I had a cigarette or two to calm down, and Margaret got dinner going! And we got through the evening and night.

The next morning, we went back to the trailer to sift through the ashes for anything worth saving. We found not much, but a few strange things survived. I remember resurrecting a cast iron skillet which Ed and Margaret showed me how to re-season it by oiling and baking it in the oven at a very low temperature. It was good as new after that! I also found a pair of dyed silk heels that I had bought as part of a bridesmaid’s ensemble for Martha Dickey’s wedding some time earlier. The shoes were still in their plastic bag and, except for smelling terribly of smoke, they were absolutely fine.

But not everything else fared so well. One of my terrible losses was a little footstool. It had had a cushion on it that I had made the previous summer using a scene petit point needle pointed by an elderly neighbor lady of ours from Fort Dodge. She had taught me to knit, crochet and needle point on summer afternoons when I was younger, and I loved that beautiful gift. I still think of her and that little stool. People say, “Oh well, it’s just stuff,” but I will always miss that. We also lost our wedding album to the fire, but my parents gave us a replacement of it the following Christmas.

We were truly amazed at all that happened after the fire. I had left school on Friday, late morning, and I guess I was more traumatized that I thought. I completely forgot that I had a whole class of students ready for their afternoon classes! I found out later that Sister Pat, the principal of the school, took my classes for the afternoon. After a hectic weekend, I was back teaching the following Monday. But by that Friday afternoon, I sure had a big surprise. Sister announced that there would be a special assembly that afternoon, so we all went to the gym. I thought my kids were a bit giggly and smiley, but I didn’t have a clue as to what would happen. Sister took the microphone and asked me to come to the front of the assembly where she and members of the school board presented me with a check for several hundred dollars to help us get back on our feet. I think it’s the only time I cried in front of my students; I was simply astounded.

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That weekend, we had a call from one of Steve’s classmates, Gary Lee. He lived in an apartment in Coralville - Park Fair Apartments. He told us that they were building more units that winter, and they should be finished by spring. He said, although his apartment wasn’t huge, he and his wife Linda would like to offer us accommodations while the units were going up. We took them up on their offer and moved in with them for several weeks. Finally, that spring, during a huge rainstorm, we moved our very few belongs into our new apartment.

That apartment would turn out to be a great place to live, especially during the hot summer that year. I was pregnant with Stephanie, who was due in August, and the apartment was not only air conditioned, but had a swimming pool!

I had a very tan back that year from spending lots of time on my tummy on a blow-up float! (It was the only way I could sleep on my stomach, so I took at least one little nap a day in the pool.

I had a call from Linda (Gary’s wife) one day to tell me they were going to go look at some American Eskimo puppies and would Steve and I go along. Steve said he would go as long as I promised that I would NOT come home with a puppy. Guess what! We came home with a puppy whom we named Nikki. This was our first dog together, and she was adorable. She would sleep under Stephanie’s crib and “protect” her every time we had a storm. She would growl when it thundered.

And when my parents came to see Steph, she got up, stood guard and growled in the door frame, and wouldn’t let my dad come in to pick her up until I came in and told her it was all right!

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Stephanie grew up around the pool and became the darling of the apartment complex and also quite the little swimmer.

She was baptized at St. Mary’s Church, and her godparents were Duane and Sharon Bailey (who taught with me at St. Mary’s), who have remained dear friends throughout our lives. They still live in Michigan part of the year, but they winter in Stuart, FL in the winter. They are part of a group of medical school classmates of Steve’s, (Baileys, Bockenstedts, Burghfechtels, and Rehmanns) whom we try to see at least once a year to catch up on present happenings and relive old and dear memories. We are so fortunate to have had all of them in our lives for 50+ years!

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One of the couples who loved Stephanie dearly was Ron and Mary Kay Rehmann. I loved Mary Kay as a sister, and I was devastated many years ago when she lost her life to cancer.

Ron has remained single, and he has remained a dear, dear friend of us both. He winters in Florida and we see him several times when he is here. He still lives in MN in the summers, and we have been able to keep up with his children through him. We are godparents to his daughter Julie, and we had the wonderful good fortune to see her and her husband David in Hilton Head a couple of years ago.

Our little dog Nikki was so much fun until I had to go back to work in the fall. Steve had to go back to classes and Nikki was left at home all day locked in the kitchen. She ate the bottom of our folding pantry door and chewed on the lower kitchen cabinets.

The final straw was when she chewed the backs of the legs off the wooden rocker that we had recently bought. So we decided she would be better off in a new home. It happened that my brother Bob’s wife Bonnie came from a big family in Fort Dodge and they said they would love to have her. They lived a block from my parents, so they had already met Nikki. She spent many happy years playing with Bonnie’s siblings!

Stephanie was born on August 3, 1965, and we had great few weeks spending our days and nights together. But then duty called, and I had to go back to work. Fortunately, one of the senior medical students came to the rescue. He and his wife had one son, and she said she was lonely after her little boy started school. She was delighted to babysit for me. She was a godsend! Stephanie was well taken care of and happy while I was at work, and I didn’t have to worry about her.

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Moving to Park Fair Apartments was Kismet in a way, because we met a couple who lived above us who were going to be those people who come into your lives in a special way. You don’t realize it at the time, but they have a special impact on you, and they will be with you forever in your hearts.

We first met Dick and Stephanie Johnson with Harry and Jane Moulton over a BBQ grill in front of our apartment. We lived on the first floor, and they both lived on the second, so our front sidewalk area proved the perfect grilling place. We could put on a roast or burgers, swim in the pool, crack open a beer, and get to know each other. Little did we know, the Johnsons and we would still be across-the-road neighbors still having dinner and boating together over fifty years later!

We spent lots of time with the Moultons and the Johnsons, going back and forth from one apartment to the other and barbecuing beef roasts on the grill in front of our apartment while we swam in the pool. We’d put more BBQ sauce on the roast and the guys would keep slicing off little pieces to make sure it was cooking properly. By the time we were finished swimming, the baked beans, rolls and salad were ready, and there was just enough meat left to feed the six of us!

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Dick driving Grandpa Vanourny’s John Deere garden tractor in Monticello.

Clowning around and tending our vegetable garden at the city lots.

Dick having a “stare down” with Jane and Harry’s dog, Brigadier (Brig).

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And many years later, the Johnsons and we are still great friends. We now both live in Florida. This was taken in Key West. As of this writing in 2020, the Johnsons just moved to a retirement area in Fort Myers and we are still in our house in Estero. We live about 1/2 hour from each other - not too bad!

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Chapter Eight

Internship and the Military By 1967, we were pretty established as a little family. We were a couple with one child and another on the way. Steve graduated from medical school at The University of Iowa, and I finished my teaching at St. Mary’s School in Iowa City. We were ready and excited for our move out of state. Steve would begin his internship at Hurley Hospital in Flint, MI on July 1st, and I would become a full-time wife and mother. We hated to leave behind our weekend trips to Monticello to see Steve’s family and our visits to my family in Fort Dodge.

Before we left to start our internship, Bob and Bette Burgfechtel invited the group to Minnesota for a last hurrah of fishing and getting together at a summer home that Bette’s parents owned. Unfortunately, Ron and Mary Kay Rehmann couldn’t join us because they just had their first child, Julie. We missed them, but we still managed to have a great time Kristin didn’t know it, but she helped me catch this Northern Pike which I ate for dinner - bones and all!

Me, Steve, Bette and Bob

Enjoying our fish dinner.

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Although we were going to be leaving our Iowa friends and family, we were still going to have the three Bs (Baileys, Bockenstedts and Burgfechtels) and the Rehmanns with us as they were going to Flint with us and would be living in the same apartment building across the street from the hospital. We all became very close friends.

The Baileys lived above us and had a little boy, Mike, who was very close in age to Stephanie. He would come down to our front door every morning to see if Steph wanted to play. Even then, neither I nor Stephanie were early risers, so we had a rule that if the front curtains were open, he could knock and come in to play. If they were closed, we were still in bed and he had to go back upstairs! Sorry to tell this story on you, Mike, but if you had to go back upstairs, you usually would pee on the bricks under our front window before heading back up those stairs!

Another story about Stephanie and Mike (and peeing…) We had a big pine tree in the big front yard of the apartments. Stephanie and Mike loved to go there and just sit and talk, but Stephanie came back really pouting one day, and I asked her what was wrong.

She was so mad because Mike could pee on the side of the tree, and when she tried to, her pee just ran down her leg! That was a tough one to explain.

Not too long after we moved to Flint, things started happening that are reminiscent of the things that are happening now in 2020. It makes me think we haven’t progressed too far, but then again, some of these movements and happenings were quite different from today’s events. The Viet Nam War was still in full swing, and many Americans, young and old, were saying that this was an unjust war. The young men were being called to serve in the military because of something called “the draft,” and they were protesting and fleeing to Canada to escape the draft.

Protestors at The Pentagon

Calling for “Peace, not war.”

Photos from The Washington Post

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It was also a time of the hippie or “counter culture” movement (sound familiar?) which opposed anything establishment or conservative. The “Summer of Love” refers to the summer of 1967, when an unprecedented gathering of as many as 100,000 young people converged on the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco, creating a phenomenon of cultural and political rebellion.

Joan Baez and George Harrison showed up in Haight-Ashbury.

The Beatles’ song, “All You Need is Love,” became the peace movement anthem.

Calling for “Peace, not war.”

And “Flower Power” was in.

Isn’t she pretty?

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There were race riots throughout the country during the summer of 1967, but the one that hit closest to home for us was called the 12th Street Riot, and it began July 23 in Detroit. When we heard that a doctor had been shot going up the steps of the major Detroit hospital, Steve decided to fly Stephanie and me back to Iowa. But it was not to be done.

The mayor of Flint decided that Flint was not going to be another Detroit if he had anything to say about it. So he shut down the airport and he closed the bars. The only gasoline that could be bought had to be pumped directy into a car. He closed all of the liquor stores. (And liquor and beer could not be sold in grocery stores back then!)

These pictures look disturbingly familiar to what we’ve seen on TV recently, but they were taken in Detroit in July of 1967.

People could not enter or leave Flint before sunrise or after sunset. Flint was one quiet town.

All of the residents and interns were on call at the hospital overnight for some length of nights. I don’t remember how many. So, often, the only people left in our apartments were women and children. Were we scared? You’d better believe it! Small towners from the Midwest had never experienced anything like this before. And we were right to be frightened.

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The Washington Post reported that 1,189 people were injured: this included 407 civilians, 289 suspects, 214 Detroit police officers, 134 Detroit firefighters, 55 Michigan National Guardsmen, 67 Michigan State Police officers, 15 Wayne County Sheriff deputies, and 8 federal soldiers. More than 50 people were killed. Since moving on after Steve’s residency, we have not gone back to Detroit, so I don’t know if the city has ever fully recovered. But our friend, Duane Bailey, has settled in Fenton just outside of Flint and their family enjoys it very much.

Finally, cooler weather rolled around and the protests also seemed to die down. Tempers cooled with the weather.

Many good things happened in the ’67-68 time-frame. Best of all, our daughter Kristin was born on Octobe27th. Stephanie loved having a little sister!!

So happy (and so young!

Mom and Dad )

Ron and Mary Kay Rehmann were Kristin’s godparents on Nov. 12th, 1967 at St. Michael’s Church in Flint, MI.

And Santa (AKA Bob Burgfechtel) even came to visit a couple of months later!

Happy godmother and goddaughter!

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When Steve finished his internship, the Vietnam war was still in full swing, so he, like many young physicians, had a two-year military commitment. So Steve volunteered for the Air Force and was accepted to become a flight surgeon. This meant he would enter the military as a captain. All good things!

We were all now going to be going our separate ways. We would be heading to Selfridge AFB in Michigan, and Ron and Mary Kay Rehmann were going to Goose Bay, Labrador. Duane and Sharon Bailey would be at McConnell AFB in Kansas, and Bob and Bette Burgfechtel were off to Duluth, MN. Fred and Barb Bockenstedt would be going to Kinschloe AFB in Northern Michigan.

Most of us were still going to be together for a short while as the guys and we headed for Aerospace Medicine training at Brooks Air Force Base in San Antonio, TX. Duane and Sharon were not joining us as he had a minor eye issue that prevented him from being a flight surgeon.

We all headed back for a last visit with our families and prepared for our next big steps in life.

Rehmanns and we had contacted an apartment finding service since the World’s Fair was set up in San Antonio and we were concerned about the availability of housing. I don’t know about Ron and Mary Kay’s parents, but my dad was extremely concerned about Steve and pregnant me taking off for Texas with his only granddaughter and no place to live. But off we went!

Steve and I looked at two apartments that the apartment hunters had sent us. The first one was in a bad section of town and surrounded by busy streets. Not particularly inviting! The next was worse than the first, having a back yard that was full of weeds and barb wire rolled up everywhere. We were dejected, but drove past a very nice apartment complex and decided to stop and give it a shot.

When Steve stopped in the office, the man told us that, sadly, he had just rented the last two units to a couple from Iowa with a cute baby. Steve said, “Hey, we’re from Iowa too,” and he asked if we had a little girl named Stephanie. He came out and met me and Stephanie and told us that Ron and Mary Kay had rented the smaller unit for themselves and saved the larger one for us! Now, you want to talk about a true friend.

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Our apartment had a playground, swimming pool and laundry facilities. Ron, we are forever indebted to you!

Here Steve is standing in his regular uniform on the balcony of our apartment.

He also had a “mess dress” uniform which was worn to special, more formal events.

We weren’t in San Antonio for very long, but we loved our time there! When Steve checked in at the base, he was given, what was, to us, a very large check for his uniforms, housing, and other things he would need. We were thrilled with so much money! So it was on to buying things for our stay - groceries, etc. Then we explored the base.

The base was great, especially for us wives! We discovered a babysitting area, an activities center for the wives to take art classes, play bridge, etc., a very cute little bar and restaurant, and all kinds of little places. We would often drop the children at the babysitting area, meet the guys when they were finished for the day and grab a drink and dinner with them before heading home. Life was pretty good!

Steve in glasses

The guys learned to march and (I guess) how to ride in fighter jets with really good AF fighter pilots.

They learned how to put their captain’s bars on correctly, how to salute and, just in general, how to be good captains. All in all, we found the Air Force to be a pretty good place, especially with all that was going on in the rest of the country.

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We girls got together a bunch! We celebrated Stephanie’s birthday with a party in our little apartment, swam in the pool, played bridge at the Officer’s Club, and just enjoyed ourselves. We met some great people and learned to love the military.

We had time to visit the Alamo, take luncheon river tours, and do some sight seeing. And I learned to love being the wife of an officer in training. Life was pretty good, and Steve was not slated to go to Viet Nam

Getting ready to head out Bob, Steve, Fred, the guide, and Ron

The fellows graduated from Flight Medical School on Sept. 8th, 1968, and the group of us did another fishing trip together before we went our separate ways to the military. Ron had a sister in the Corpus Christi area, so we traveled down to see her and then spent some time on the water where the guys did some serious deepwater fishing. They were quite successful! These friends are all still with us and still in Florida in the winter. We all still miss Mary Kay every year!

Finally, it was time for us all to part and go our separate ways. Off to Iowa again for a short time with our families. Then Steve headed to Michigan first. Our housing was not available for immediately, so I moved in with Steve’s parents in Monticello with the girls for three weeks with all of our clothes and “stuff.” Not for a minute did they make us feel unwelcome; in fact, they made us feel as though it was a dream come true to have me and the girls as their special guests for the time. (See why I loved them so much?)

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But finally our house was ready, so I packed up our things, and we headed to our next great adventure together! Steve met us at the airport and we had our first look at the base and our new house.

Steve said he had a big surprise in store for us. He was now a flight surgeon with the famous 94th Fighter Interceptor Squadron (AKA “Hat in the Ring” squadron) which was once commanded by Eddie Rickenbacker, an American fighter ace in World War I and a Medal of Honor recipient.

The squadron of fighter pilots took very good care of their flight surgeons, so they had already loaded up our kitchen with food and the refrigerator with milk, soda, butter, and everything else we would need.

We didn’t have much in the way of furniture yet, so one of the pilot’s wives who had children the same ages as our girls was coming over to take Stephanie and Kristin to her house where they had hired a babysitter to come and supervise the kids for dinner and a sleepover. And since we had no furniture, they had taken the liberty to bring over a “boom box,” and stocked the kitchen with beer, liquor, ice and pizza. The squadron welcome party was at our house!

Needless to say, we felt wonderfully welcomed! Shortly after the party got underway, Steve’s commander took me back into the bedroom where it was quiet and explained to me that even though Steve was a doctor and there was a doctor’s group on the base, Steve was first and foremost, one of their two flight surgeons. We were first and always part of their group from day one. If I needed anything or required help with anything, I should feel free to call him, his wife, or any of the squadron’s wives or husbands, and they would fix things. I have never before or since had such an immediate welcome or felt so safely enclosed in a group. The military does take care of its own!

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The girls both made friends quickly as well. Stephanie went to a preschool with a couple of the physicians’ children, and we wives were involved with a car pool. Stephanie, Natalie Fine and Barbie Bonneau would sit in the back seat and have the most interesting conversations! We three women knew all about each others’ lives, since those three little girls talked about their families nonstop in the car. And come Christmas and Hannukah, they really had some fun conversations! (Was it better to be Catholic, Christian or Jewish?) Of course, we moms learned to say nothing!

Stephanie and Barbie - Steph on the left

Stephanie posing in an outfit I made for her. The base had a style show in which the girls all modeled clothing that they or their mothers had made for them or themselves.

Of course, Steph, Barbie, and Natalie all wanted to be in the show!

One of my favorite shots of the four of us. And our little red mustang is even in the background!

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And here are the style show models in all their glory! In the back row are the older girls, who made their own outfits. What a talented bunch they were. All the girls got their moments of glory as they walked across the stage by themselves to beautiful music as their proud mothers (and even some fathers) watched with huge smiles on their faces.

Afterwards we had soft drinks, wine, and cake. It was really a wonderful afternoon in the Officer’s Club!

Our little darlings had front and center stage!

Stephanie is in her glory with her fishnet tights, staring straight at the camera.

I think little Natalie has a bit of stage fright as she holds Barbie’s hand for comfort!

And little Barbie is so cute as she sports her lovely smile and gives her friend comfort.

I can’t remember the name of the other little girl, but they all had a great time together that day, as did the older girls. This was just another fun time we had at Selfridge AFB. Lot of good memories.

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Although we had some fun times at Selfridge, there were serious moments as well. In January of 1968, an older US intelligence gathering ship, the USS Pueblo commanded by Lloyd Bucher, was sailing along the east coast of North Korea, its mission shrouded in secrecy. The ship was surrounded by North Korean boats, shelled and machinegunned, and forced to surrender. One sailor was killed, ten were wounded, and the ship was boarded by the North Koreans. Bucher was ordered to have his ship follow the Korean ships to the port of Wosan. When they reached Wosan, the commander and his crew were blindfolded and forced off their ship and into captivity. There was a lot of finger pointing and fear mongering over the captivity and treatment of Commander Bucher and his crew as well as arguing over the fault of the Navy and/or the President about what happened - and what might happen.

Lyndon Johnson, U.S. President at the time, placed all military forces on heightened alert. This has come to be known as “The Pueblo Incident.” Americans feared a full-out war with North Korea, and possibly Russia, over it. Steve’s squadron was called to a six-month TDY (Temporary Duty) to Osan AFB in South Korea as standby duty. Since the squadron had two flight surgeons, each of them would serve three months with the fliers. Steve Kalstein volunteered to go first. After the first few months passed, Steve (my Steve) packed his bags and headed out for Osan air base. We hated to see him go, but this is what we signed up for.

We debated whether or not I should go back to Iowa, and we decided we should stay where we were. The girls had their friends, we had our house and our lives there, by this time we had a large dog, and I had friends I could depend on. That was a good decision. The pilots’ wives and I got together quite often in the afternoons; we would go to the Officer Club parties together (and Steve Kalstein, who was single, would always make a point to dance with all of us) and we would go to movies together.

Serious things were going on in Korea, things that cannot be printed in a memoir, but finally Steve and the pilots all came home safely.

And, after an eleven-month capture, Bucher and his men were finally released. We went back to happier times at Selfridge as well. Our fliers and husbands returned, and we gathered for a party to watch the historic walk on the moon on a TV set at one of the pilot’s homes.

Steve brought the girls lots of gifts from Korea, including these little Korean pajamas.

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My brothers, Dennis and George also served in the Army around this time.

Dennis trained at Fort Leonard Wood in MO and served at Fort Huachuca in Arizona. He loved the Arizona weather and mountains.

Denny and Sue retired to Arkansas most of the year, but they winter in Green Valley, AZ in a home that formerly belonged to Sue’s mom. It has a beautiful view of the mountains, and they love it.

George, Jr. was also in the Army, but with a different set of circumstances. After basic training, he was sent to Viet Nam as a soldier on the ground. He already had had problems with alcohol and drug use, and the war simply exacerbated these problems. He came back into our parents’ lives with many issues and was finally not well accepted by most of the family members for various reasons.

George married and had two children. They were divorced and she gained custody of the children. He died, I think of a kidney related illness, and I have lost contact with his wife and children. I spoke with my other family members, and they have also lost contact with him, his wife and his children over the years.

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We traveled back to Iowa on August 30, 1969, for a very important day. My brother Bob married his beautiful little red-headed girl, Bonnie Lomax, and our Stephanie was a flower girl in his wedding. She was thrilled!

They, and we, were happy that Bob was able to come home from the hospital and the rehab center in time to celebrate their 51st wedding anniversary.

That beautiful red-headed girl continues to stand by his side. As I write this in the middle of Oct., his health continues to fail, but Bob, you couldn’t ask for a better helpmate. You two are fighting your own battles, and we stand in awe of you! We continue to pray for you daily!

All too soon it was time to leave the military and head back to Iowa and the life of more medical learning as the life of a resident in OB/GYN in Iowa City, Iowa.

Another Adventure Awaits!

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Chapter Nine

Back to Iowa (Residency) Going back to Iowa was an exciting adventure indeed. Steve had spent some time trying to decide whether to stay in Michigan and go into general practice or to coninue training in OB/GYN under Dr. Keetel in Iowa City. Further training finally won out, and with the GI bill to help us out, we started looking for a house in Iowa City.

We were very fortunate to find a lovely home in Iowa City in a neighborhood which was just being built. Steve’s parents thought we were slightly balmy to be spending a whopping $28,000 dollars on a house, but remember, this was in the early 70s! It was money well spent, however, because the neighborhood was great! We had a huge cornfield in the back, a big backyard where we planted a vegetable and flower garden, and wonderful neighbors with friends who worked at the hospital and the university and had kids all about the same age as ours. No one had fences, and the kids roamed the back yards here and there with a freedom they’ve never had before or since.

We still had our cute little red mustang. This is a picture of the house with my dad and the girls outside. We could once again travel back to Fort Dodge and Monticello to visit the grandparents and relatives. Steve did have to work hard, though, being a resident, even having to be gone for days at a time when he had a rotation in Des Moines at Broadlawns Hospital. But all the residents admired Dr. Keetel and they got along with each other, so it was a good two years.

We got back and forth to Monticello quite frequently, but we had some special trips to Ft. Dodge as well. It was so good to be back among Iowa friends and relatives.

Here the girls are modeling dresses I made for them for a trip back to Fort Dodge for Easter. I don’t think Steve could make this trip because of work, but we decided to go anyway. We felt bad leaving Dad at home, but the girls were real troupers and traveled well.

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Other siblings were getting married and having little ones, and it was so much fun to get them all together. We had a fun Easter with my family. I don’t know who had a better time with the Easter egg hunt in the back yard - my parents or the kids. David and Terri had a great time getting to know Stephanie and Kristin.

We would also go to see my parents at Christmas, and I think this is when the yearly pictures on my parents’ stairway began to be a “thing.”

1971 - Now we’re on the stairs. With Dad and new baby dolls

1968 - Not on the stairs!

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Mom loved decorating her Christmas tree each year. It always stood in front of the picture window which faced 2nd Avenue North, and when the curtains were open, everyone passing by could enjoy it.

This was a real tree, but in the coming years, she started using flocked trees - first white and then sometimes different colors - because they were less of a fire hazard. But it wasn’t really Christmas until all of the children and grandchildren gathered!

Dad loved Christmas too, and he loved the Dad with Stephanie, Terri, and stockings being emptied and the delight of the kids Kristin when they saw what Santa had brought. But, even though all the kids got to open one present on Christmas Eve and got to get into their Christmas stockings right away on Christmas morning, nothing else could be touched until Grandpa was situated in his chair with his coffee and usually an “adult beverage” in hand.

Then, and only then, began the ritual of opening Santa gifts, the passing of family presents by the youngest helped by the oldest, and the unwrapping followed by the “oohs” and “aahs” and “thank yous“ all around.

Then began the trash bag passing and champagne flutes being refilled, the setting of the table, and the wonderful smells of another Christmas dinner being prepared. People would be eating in the dining room, the kitchen, and the “kids’ table” in the living room. A bar was set up on the glassed-in front porch, and it was visited before, after, and sometimes even during dinner. A good time was had by all!

And this was Dad by the end of the day!

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One of our favorite families in the Iowa City neighborhood was the Boudewyns. Steve and Pat hit it off right away. Pat was a clinical psychologist at the VA, and they had two children, Brian and Erin, who were close in age to our two girls. And Mickey and I seemed to just think alike. We were together nearly all the time. We had picnics, got together for dinner, and just had fun!

This was a cold day when we wanted it to be warmer, so we decided to go for a picnic at Lake McBride. We were all freezing, but it was, as I remember, a really fun day!

One day, we lost Kristin, Erin, and another little neighbor girl the same age, Wendy. We lived in houses all next door to each other. The next street over was a whole block of homes being built and, as it started to become more and more dark, we really started to worry. We had the whole neighborhood our calling their names, to no avail. Finally, someone shouted out that they had found them! Here they were, sitting in the basement of a just-begun house that only had the 2x4s up, and they were so engrossed in their (probably 4-year-old) conversations that they hadn’t noticed that it was getting dark or that anyone had been calling for them! We were just so glad they were found that we didn’t have the heart to punish them.

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We did visit Pat, Micky, Brian, and Erin several years later when Steve was in practice, but things were not the same. The Women’s Lib movement was in full swing, and I got the feeling that Micky definitely wanted to be a liberated woman. (In fact, she and Pat split up shortly after our visit.) We had a good time with them, but things were just a bit strained.

I don’t know how long Kristin and Erin’s friendship lasted, but Stephanie and Brian remained friends until Brian died some years back. We still correspond with Pat and his wife Joan and with Micky. We haven’t seen Micky for many years, but we have visited Pat and Joan in Augusta and in Hilton Head. I am still a Facebook friend with Micky.

She did remarry and she and Stan seemed quite happy; unfortunately, he died some years ago. She travels quite a bit and has recently acquired a new puppy. Maybe one day we will still get together; I would like that.

I didn’t work during Steve’s residency years except for the work of taking care of two very active little girls and maintaining a home with a husband who was gone more than he was home. But I loved taking care of the family. I had a big garden, many friends in the neighborhood, and I belonged to the Welcome Wagon Club and the Medical Wive’s Club. Four or so of us neighborhood women would get together in the afternoon several afternoons a week and play bridge, knit, sew, or just talk. We would put all the kids down for a nap in the same house and hope they would fall asleep (which they usually did). So it really was a fun time for me, and the three years passed quickly.

Stephanie attended Ernest Horne Grade School, and my one claim to fame there was working hard to (successfully) get the city council to put a sidewalk in so that the young boys and girls didn’t have to walk through an apartment complex to get to and from school. I put in a lot of effort to get that accomplished, and I am still proud of that work done for the safety of our children.

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Steve worked long hours as a resident. Many nights he was on call, so we didn’t see him during the day or at night either. So I was really grateful for all of my good women friends in the neighborhood. When he did work all night and then come home, the girls and I had to be especially quiet so he could sleep. Stephanie was usually at school then, and so Kristin and I would very often go to visit the Boudewyns or go to a park so she could play. Some afternoons we would go to someone’s house for our infamous bridge games.

Steve did take a side job covering an emergency room in Davenport during his 2nd year. We had next to no money (in spite of me babysitting and selling Avon products to earn a bit of extra cash) so this helped out a bit. But the hospital frowned on the residents working outside of their residency, so if the hospital called to talk to Steve, I had to tell them I didn’t know where he was. I’m sure they suspected that I was some dumb wife not knowing that her husband was playing around on her!

Our son, Stephen Jr., was born on April 9, 1973, at nearly 11 p.m. during his dad’s final year of residency. It had started snowing that day and heavy snow was predicted. I had felt a little “funny” all day, so I decided to make a casserole for dinner and put a fresh coat of paint on part of the kitchen walls.

Well, it continued to snow all day; the snow came down heavier and heavier. We sent the girls to Boudewyns with overnight bags packed and bundled me in the car. We made it in at 8:30 p.m., as did my doctor (Rudy Galask), but Steve got stuck after Stephen’s delivery when he was on the way home, about 1:30 a.m.. Pat B. came and got him on our snowmobile! Steve’s parents were unable to make it from Monticello for a few days, so Stephanie and Kristin stayed with the Boudewyns. Thank heavens for good friends and neighbors! But being Iowa, the tulips were coming up by the time I brought Steve home from the hospital!

Steve was born with a cleft lip, so he had to undergo surgery a few weeks after he was born. Fortunately, the cleft did not involve the palate, so we were very fortunate. The biggest problem was that he swallowed a lot of air with his milk in a bottle, so he had a lot of colic, so he was very fussy - poor baby!

Stephen had his first surgery at University Hospitals by a Dr. Harker, and he could no longer take a bottle. We thickened his formula with baby food rice cereal and feed him through a large ear syringe Miracle of miracles - no more colic and no more crying all day and night! That meant Momma and Daddy got to sleep as well! Glory be!

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Stephen was baptized at All Saints Church with Mark and Sandi as his godparents

Stephen continued to grow and do well, as did the girls. This was a busy time for us with Stephen’s surgery and getting ready to move once again. Steve and Bill Davis, a fellow resident, had looked at a practice in Illinois, but they both decided that they would prefer to stay in Iowa if they could find a practice that they both liked.

Stephen had a second surgery in Iowa City, and this time his surgeon was a man named Janusz Bardach. We didn’t know all of this at the time, but Dr. Bardach was a renowned plastic surgeon, especially in the area of cleft lips and palates. He also was a survivor of a Siberian Stalinist-era labor camp, and his memoir documents this time in his life in his book Man is Wolf to Man. Stephanie discovered this book when she was doing her post graduate studies in Iowa City. He died in 2002 in Iowa City of pancreatic cancer.

Dr. Bardach did the final surgery on Stephen’s lip when he was a bit older, and they were extremely successful. He was a cute baby, a smokin’ teen and is a very handsome man today! By the time he was one year old, he was spoiled by his sisters, sitting up, falling downstairs, not only walking but running, and glorying in life. He was such a happy little boy with not a care in the world!

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Some fun baby pictures of little Steve

1st taste of birthday cake

At Corpus Christi Church grounds on a visit to Fort Dodge

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Chapter Ten Cedar Rapids Steve and his good friend and fellow resident, Bill Davis, decided to take over an OB/GYN practice from a retiring Cedar Rapids doctor, Phil Crew. Phil didn’t want any of his patients to leave and go to another doctor when he retired, so he didn’t tell any of his ladies that he was leaving. Imagine the ladies’ surprise when, on their routine doctor’s visit, they didn’t see kindly white-haired Phil, but one of these very young, fresh out of residency, newly minted doctors!! They may have lost a few patients, but they retained quite a few and eventually had more than a two-man practice could handle!

Little did we know it at the time, but Cedar Rapids was to be our home for the rest of Steve’s working life. There is an old saying about Iowa: “It’s a land where the mountains are low and the waters are muddy!” But they don’t add that the friends are loyal, the education is first class, families are close knit, and people are kind and generous to a fault. Our children were well educated and taught by us, our church, and their friends and families to be kind, generous and moral people. No wonder we couldn’t leave.

Again, we and the children were fortunate to make new friends. Steve and Bill were busy in their practice from Day 1. The girls attended All Saints School, and I was able to get Kristin into their first grade class even though she had missed the cut off date for entrance. She was quite bright and passed their test, already reading, recognizing her colors, and all the other requirements for first grade. Having an older sister certainly helped on that count! They were quite the pals!

They also took the bus to school since we lived on an acreage a bit out of town. This was a huge help to me since I had a new baby at home. But, I must say, I was a bit bored and lonely that first year with a busy husband, the girls in school and not much to do all day. I wasn’t used to all the quiet; I was accustomed to activity, in-town living, clubs, etc.

I complained to my neighbor LeeAnn one morning while having coffee with her and she just laughed. “Just give it a year,” she said. “You’ll be pining for that peace and quiet!” As those of you who know me, my children included, that never really happened. I love people, activity, and action! I must say, I did enjoy quiet times with little

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Steve, Jr., but as soon as he was old enough, I was back playing tennis, volunteering, and getting back into the swing of things.

The kids loved the contemporary house outside of town filled with floor to ceiling windows and acres of timber. It even came with a tree house that the former owner had built!

The girls shared a large bedroom, decorated in pink and orange. Since we had moved from a much smaller home, we had no living room furniture, so they turned that into a huge playroom which they used as their very own gym, running around, doing cartwheels, etc.

And everywhere one looked, there was long blue and green shag carpeting! It’s a good thing I was a stay at home mom, because back then, our carpeting needed raking! I kid you not - I had a plastic rake for the sole purpose of raking the carpet! We also had one black, sunken bathtub which was beautiful to look at, but needed dusting if it weren’t used every day.

Outside, we had a huge front yard - beautiful in the summer but covered with leaves in the fall. It took all of us to get the leaves raked up in the fall When I think back now to taking care of that house and yard, I just shake my head in wonder. But we did have fun. The kids loved jumping in the huge piles of oak leaves, they loved running wild in the woods, and they loved the neighbor kids. Life was pretty good on Twin Ridge Court in 1973.

We did have some great trips as well. Some of the most memorable were the trips we took with our motor home. We traveled to West Bend to the Grotto, to the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, to Washington D.C, to visit Pat and Micky Boudewyns in the Carolinas, and many other states. We wanted to get to all the contiguous states in the country; we didn’t quite do that, but we sure had a good time!

Steve would get up and start driving before the sun came up, I would fix breakfast along on the road, and the kids spent a lot of time in the upper bunk reading comics. This was all before mandatory seat belts! It’s a wonder we survived!

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The beautiful Smoky Mountains - a source for petrified wood

Magnificent Washington D.C. with the Washington Monument in the background We spent several wonderful awe inspiring days here.

Steve needed to stop and smell the roses on the campus at Chapel Hill.

One of our favorite pictures of the whole trip!

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Steve and Bill finally decided that a two-man OB/GYN practice was just too much. When one of them was out of town, the other was always on call. That was brutal, especially if one took a vacation for a week.

And if one of them were gone for two weeks, it was horrid for the other left back to run the office. Further, with two hospitals in town, they would sometimes miss a delivery because they’d be at one hospital when a patient would be admitted to the other. Things had to change!

Steve, Jr. was just a little tyke, but he loved to go out with his dad!

Once a site was found for the new and bigger office building, they had to go out at every spare opportunity to make sure the builders were on task and doing a good job.

An especially fun part of the inspection was driving to the lot in Dad’s cute little MG. I don’t know if big Steve or little Steve enjoyed this car the most!

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Steve and Bill were thrilled to combine forces in the new office with two other practicing OB/GYN physicians in town. Pictured from the left are Dean and Bonnie Bemus, I and Steve, Mary and Gil Wessel, and Jan and Bill Davis.

The practice would continue to grow through the years.

The new combined office staff was also excited to begin work in the new, spacious offices.

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The new office was built in 1977-78, and by then I was starting to question our living out so far from town with three children and a husband who needed to get to two different hospitals to deliver babies STAT. We would be having three children going to All Saints School, and the girls were starting to participate in sports, scouts, and other activities. With Stephen ready for pre-school, I too was getting an urge to get back into more activities.

So the hunt was on!

Steve now had a little more free time since the office was finished, our house on Twin Ridge Court was done, and he had two more partners. We knew we wanted to stay on the SE side of Cedar Rapids because it was close to our church, the kids’ schools, and Steve’s work, so we started looking at what was available. We found a beautiful two story house on the hill and knew that this was it.

So, in 1979, we bought and moved into this home on Forest Drive. The kids loved the fact that it had two stairways; one led from the living room to the upstairs area, and the other led from the kitchen to an upstairs bedroom. This latter stairway was referred to the “maid’s stairway.”

The closest I ever got to having a maid in those days happened one day when my sink got all plugged up and I had to call a plumber. I was in a pair of old jeans and a tee shirt When the plumber came to the back door, he asked me if the “lady of the house was home.” I said, “Mister, you’re looking at her!” and we both got a good laugh!

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We enjoyed that house for many years. It had a wonderful little “gentleman’s den” with a small fireplace on the back side of the house. Steve loved to sit in that room with its leather chairs and paneled walls and read and gaze out at the lovely back yard and flowering trees. It also became the room to which the children were called to have a “talk” with dad if they had gotten in trouble, so it may not have been one of their favorite rooms in the house!

We planted this little cherry tree in the back yard. I wonder if it’s still there.

As is so true with many of our houses, what made it special was the people and families around it. The girls attended and graduated from All Saints School, and Stephen went to a pre-school nearly across the street from our house. He became friends with a little boy who lived up the hill from us named Tom Anderson. Steve and Tom have been close friends ever since. They went to different grade schools, but every summer they went right back to seeing each other nearly every day. They were both the Best Man in each other’s weddings, and they continue to see each other to this day.

Further up the street, a family named Pfeiler became some of our best friends while we lived in Cedar Rapids and even after we retired and moved away. Their daughter Susan was Stephanie’s age, Mark was Kristin’s age, and Megan was Steve’s age. They loved to play at each other’s homes, and we would take trips together to Colorado to ski, to Fair Hills, MN, to boat and swim, and to the Iowa City Hawkeyes games.

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Unfortunately, Don died too young, and we still miss him! He was a kind man, and we sincerely regret his passing. Karen still lives in Cedar Rapids, and her children, like ours, are scattered. They are a fine family, and it was a pleasure to know them.

This was a fun picnic we had with the Pfeiler family way back when. As they say in the songs, “Those were the days, my friend; we thought they’d never end!”

Well, the years flew by, the girls were in high school, Steve was in All Saints, and I had the days to myself! Well, not quite…

I took Steve to all day kindergarten and came home to make a cup of coffee when the phone rang. It was Steve, Sr.’s mom on the line from Monticello, asking if I would come and get her and could she stay with us for awhile. Well, of course, I said yes! For various reasons, she and Ed had decided to part ways, and she needed a place to stay while she sorted out what to do.

While at first I had selfish thoughts of, “There go my days to do what I want,” it turned out to a be a blessing for all of us, except Margaret, of course, to whom things were devastating. She was my second mother, and my children adored her. She got settled in, and I don’t know what I would have done without her. She was a wonderful grandmother, drying the girls’ tears when they had a major disappointment, always taking their side when a boy or girl hurt their feelings, understanding when they had to rant or rage against their parent for some slight they felt at the time, and being happy to babysit if I or we needed a night out. And she was always ready for a “girls’ day out for lunch” with me and one or more of my sisters-in-law! We loved having her.

Steve’s brother Paul bought a couple of duplexes in Marion, IA soon after this, and Margaret moved into one of them. She no longer lived with us, but she was close enough that the girls could go over to wrap Christmas presents, bake cookies, or just visit. She was such a wise woman. I remember once when one of the girls was mad at me (I shall not name names!), and she asked if she could go and live with Grandma because she 88

hated her mother. Grandma replied, “No, you can’t live with me, but you can come and visit me any time you want, and you know, both of us will always love you!” Now there is a wise woman! Oh, I miss her!

Here is Stephanie’s 8th grade graduation picture at All Saints with one of her best friends, Mandy Moore.

She and Mandy were great friends all through All Saints and Regis High School.

And below, here is the whole family, including Grandma, in a proud moment at graduation in front of All Saints Church.

Steph and I are just having fun one Christmas!

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It was so much fun watching the girls grow up and enter high school. They both attended and graduated from Regis High School, the local Catholic High School. They were also both active in music, sports, drama, and various other activities.

Stephanie’s high school graduation picture, taken in 1982. She was our first little bird to fly the nest, and we sure did miss her!

She was off to Northwestern, and that was a long year, but then she transferred to the University of Iowa. We were so glad to have her closer, and we visited back and forth quite often.

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Kristin’s 8th Grade Graduation Day A proud family moment

Kristin was quite a talented pianist in high school. I’ve often wondered if this is where her children got their musical abilities.

She was an honor student, an accomplished writer, and a beautiful young woman.

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Kristin was also quite the athlete. She was a swimmer and was a lifeguard for a time at one of the country clubs in Cedar Rapids. She also was an excellent young gymnast, but some knee problems, unfortunately, made her give that up. She was a very talented volleyball player, a good student, and an all round wonderful young lady. Her years in high school sped by all too quickly!

Kristin’s beautiful graduation pictures, taken in 1984. The one on the right is with our loving little Westie, Chelsea.

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Stephen also attended and graduated from All Saints School in Cedar Rapids. He was (as were the girls) a good student and always performed above his grade level. But is also liked physical sports and played football, basketball, and baseball. He had excellent hand/eye coordination and was quite the pitcher.

I have yet to figure out of this was a good thing or not, but he got selected to be on the Babe Ruth PeeWee World Series Team to play in Indianapolis to compete for Cedar Rapids. However, he was the only one from his team selected. The players had to stay in homes in Indianapolis, and he didn’t know anyone who was on the team or in the town. My mom and I went to watch him play, but of course, he couldn’t stay with us in the motel.

They played against a tough team from New York, the likes of which these kids had never seen, and got beat badly. I think he was very glad to go home and get back into his safe bed in Cedar Rapids.

Much more positive experiences for Stephen at All Saints were his scouting days.

He made some good friends and earned his Ad Altare Dei award, a pretty big honor.

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Stephen also played basketball and football for All Saints during 7th and 8th grades.

Although he was a good quarterback, his real love was basketball, and he would go on to play basketball in high school as well.

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But I do have to add what I think are a couple of both of my Steves’ favorite memories of this time of their lives - even if they didn’t include me. One is a fishing trip the Steves Sr. and Jr. took with Steve Sr.’s younger brother John to Canada. What a good time they had - and what memories!

And the other fishing trip was again up in the North with good friend Ron Rehmann and his son Matt. These two sons had gotten big!

I heard about this big fish for a couple of years after this trip!

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Stephen went on to high school after this, but he took a different path than his sisters had traveled. For several reasons, he decided to go to the public high school, Washington. It turned out to be a good decision on his part. Ralph Plagman, the principal, was all that one could ask in a high school principal, and he was a good guide for Stephen. Stephen did play basketball as a freshman and did make the starting team, but he also tried out for debate and found he loved that as well. This was about the time that students had a hard time doing more than one sport at a time because of the time commitments involved, so by his sophomore year, he dropped basketball and concentrated on debate.

Stephen also took German and, because of his score on a German sponsored test, won the opportunity to live with a German family for a time one summer. Since all three of my kids were relatively fluent in German by this time, they had a wonderful time having conversations that kept me in the dark.

As his sisters before him Stephen did well in high school.

He graduated with top honors and was a valedictorian and a speaker at his graduation. We could not have been more proud!

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Chapter Eleven After Steve and I believe highly in education, but we also believe that children need to feel an obligation and responsibility to people around them - in their homes, their schools, and in their communities. We were lucky that our children were bright and that we didn’t have to scold them to do their homework. Chores at home were sometimes a different matter, and parenting wasn’t always easy! Many times, our kids got involved in volunteer activities through scouting and friends; in Stephanie’s case, this lead to a career.

Stephanie graduated from Regis to try college at Northwestern in Chicago. After her freshman year, she returned to The University of Iowa where she majored in Special Education. She taught Special Ed at Coggin Elementary and then College Community Schools where she taught fourth and fifth grade. She went on to earn her Master’s and her PhD degrees at Iowa. Moving up the educational ladder in several states, she is now the head of the Psychology Department at Western Michigan University (WMU) in Kalamazoo, MI. She is married to Dr. Lloyd Peterson, and they have a wonderful daughter, Elsa. Stephanie has authored several books, has a special interest in autism and developmental disabilities, and, through a very large grant awarded to WMU, founded an Autism Center of Excellence there . She has spoken at conferences in several countries including Israel, Russia, and of course the U.S. In her spare time, she is a master quilter and knitter. I don’t know when she sleeps!

Kristin also attended and graduated from the University of Iowa. She found her niche in advertising and marketing. She was married to a man who was in sales after she graduated, so they moved quite often with his job. Kristin would get a job in the marketing department of a company, move quickly up to become the Director of Marketing, and then have to move because of her husband’s job. When her marriage didn’t work out, her job actually became more stable, and she did quite well until 2008 hit with all the financial ramifications of that. But Kristin forged ahead, got her MBA online in Online Marketing and began again. She is not a woman to be easily daunted! Kristin is also an extremely caring and giving person. Even though she wasn’t working up to the scale she had been previously, she was doing a lot of work with programs to help the homeless and people needing shelter for various reasons. She also got involved with marketing for such projects as “South Bay Roundup” and “House of Hope” in the LA area. When COVID hit, she was invited to work with a fantastic team who set up an online program called “gethelp.com,"also in the LA area. This program is growing larger all the time, and has been formed to connect the homeless, the addicted, and anyone needing help with facilities, i.e., shelters, hospitals, etc. which can provide the help they need. Kristin has two beautiful daughters, Jane and Rachel.

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Stephen graduated from Washington High School and headed East, attending and graduating from Dartmouth College. He then lived and worked for five years in Chicago, where he met his lovely wife, Krista, in 1996, while she was working in TV news production. After marrying in 1998, Steve and Krista moved to Boston in 2000 for Steve to attend Harvard Business School. They fell in love with Boston and stayed, with Steve working in consulting at McKinsey & Company, where he was a partner, and later at Partners Capital and State Street. He and Krista have two children, Jack and Emily who are wonderful and as precocious as the rest of our grandchildren! After a career of working in larger companies, Steve and a friend launched their own small investment firm in 2015 and Steve has been living all the ups and downs of entrepreneurial life ever since, with the biggest positive being all the time he has been able to spend with his family. Steve is also very proud to be a member of the board of trustees of Beth Israel Deaconess Hospital in Needham, MA, which he has been involved with since 2007, including chairing the board from 2017-2021. I was ever so proud a couple of years ago when we traveled to Boston to see a room in the new cancer center that he had donated in my name as a breast cancer survivor.

Steve and I couldn’t be left in the dust with our kids getting all of this education and all of this growth in their inner lives! Steve developed rather a bifurcated career in his medical life. About halfway through his career as an OB/GYN physician, he was feeling the need to do something more, so he took the U of I’s Executive MBA’s course. Not long after, Sam Wallace, the CEO of St. Luke’s Hospital, offered him the position of Medical Director of St. Luke’s, and Steve decided to make a change from being a practitioner of medicine to joining the ranks of the administrators. We both agreed (and still do) that it probably made him a better administrator because it allowed him to see both sides of issues that came up.

No too many years later, St. Luke’s became part of a larger hospital system as was happening all over the country. Sam became CEO of the new system and Steve became CEO of St. Luke’s. He was a good CEO, running things fairly, but one of the things I remember most proudly was his promotion of the women at St. Luke’s. He pushed several of the head nurses to further their education, even though a couple of them were rather nervous about doing so, and I think most of the ones he mentored eventually became Vice Presidents at the hospital. One young woman, Michelle Nierman, came to work for Steve early on, and worked for him directly. She was very bright and not afraid to speak her mind. He like being able to bounce ideas off her because she would let him know if she thought something wouldn’t work, but also back him to the hilt for the good ideas. And she was completely loyal. Well, this year we got a great announcement; Michelle was named the new CEO of St. Luke’s! We are both so proud of her!

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I also decided to get back into this education thing. I told Steve I was going to go back to Iowa and go to graduate school. I hemmed and hawed for quite a while, and he finally said he didn’t think I would have the guts to do it. Well…you all know me! The next week, I got all my stuff together and made an appointment with the Dean of Studies at Iowa. I was a bit shaky visiting with the dean, but he got my Irish up when he mentioned that it had been quite a few years since I had graduated from college (20!) and wondered why I didn’t have any letters of recommendation from my college professors, since that was usually required. I explained that 1) many of my college professors may be dead by this time and b) I was taught by nuns who by now went by their original names rather than the names they had taken when they became nuns, and I didn’t now know their names. He then asked me why he should let me into the English department at the graduate level. I informed him that I was smart, well read, didn’t go out and party, could write well, and would work my butt off. So he agreed to let me in if I would get three professors to write letters for me after I had taken three courses. I said, “Thank you very much, Sir.” and couldn’t wait to get out of there!

Needless to say, I got my Master’s degree. I gave up on the Ph. D after finding out that Iowa did not hire its own English Department graduates unless they left to teach someplace else first. What a bummer. But I loved going back to school, hanging out with the other graduate students, discussing The Canterbury Tales and Beowulf, and taking an expository writing class with students who were published authors and writing their theses. What a rush!

I did get a job teaching at a Catholic junior high in Cedar Rapids and taught there for three years. I enjoyed the students, the job, and my fellow teachers. But after a few years there, I decided to leave for an opportunity to teach high school students in the English Department at College Community School District. I loved it!

I had a wonderful time teaching high school freshmen, juniors, and seniors. It was thrilling to share the wonders of Shakespeare to my Freshmen classes - his oh so funny opening scenes in Romeo and Juliet and his brilliance of using iambic pentameter vs. prose for different classes of characters; I was also absolutely awed by the trust my students of all grades gave me when they opened their souls to me in their writing. And it was such joy to show my male Junior class writing students that not every poem needs to be about hearts and flowers; they could write about guns and cars - and their poems didn’t even have to rhyme! Then to experience the brilliance of some of my Seniors when they turned in their writing portfolios at the end of the year; they were oh so talented!

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I came to the conclusion that I had one of the best jobs in the world (other than raising my own children and watching them grow) as I got to see joy in the eyes of so many of my students who were discovering the wonder of the world and his or her place in it.

But when I turned 55, I was offered the chance to take early retirement, and I grabbed on with both hands! We decided that Steve would continue to work for five more years and then, rich or poor, or somewhere in between, he would retire as well. Then, the only question would be where. And you all know the answer to that.

I will close this section with a poem I published in Lyrical Iowa some years ago. I still like it.

Convoluted Evolution Flapping and winging their Way to the warmest of Weathers, the mallards are Braver and swifter than Any snowbird who can Travel by luxury car.

Gas guzzling honkers take Us on our land journeys, Constantly searching, while Overhead honking reMinds us we’re way behind Nature - at least by a mile.

Poets in the family - do you recognize the meter?

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Chapter Twelve Generations and History

As I end this memoir, I go back to our beginnings as a family. I want to urge all of you to be proud of your beginnings; never be ashamed of who you are or from whom you are descended. The people who came before you started from humble beginnings from all over the world: from Ireland, England, Norway, Germany, the Czech Republic and probably many other countries.

Some of your ancestors changed their surnames when they arrived in this new land.

And they all arrived poor. But they worked hard to learn a new language, educated themselves and their children, assimilated into a new culture, and respected the flag and the history of the country they were adopting as their own. They learned about the Constitution of this new country that they had so recently admired from afar. As new citizens, they swore their allegiance to a new flag, promising to defend this new country against all aggressors. And this they did. Many of the men joined the armed forces, fought in various wars, were killed, held in prisoner of war camps, and died in battle.

And many of them were fortunate enough to return home to their families.

Thanks to some of my relatives for keeping family records, and thanks to my voluminous photograph albums, I will share with you the records of those whose footsteps have gone before you. I hope you will enjoy seeing the decades of the Lundys, Lawlers, Muhls, and Vanournys who have made you the wonderful people that you are. (I don’t have the information on the Petersons, the Witzenburgs, and the Marts, but I thank them as well, and I certainly see traces of their wonderful characteristics in my lovely grandchildren, so a shout-out of thanks to them as well!)

I need to give special credit to my cousin, Beth Tasler, for much of the material that is in the next few pages. She hosted a family reunion in 2016 and sent the family some wonderful information including a family tree of my mother’s family dating back many years, some family pictures we had never seen, and some incredible stories. My mother’s youngest sister, Pat, attended the reunion, as did I, my brother Dennis, and my sister Mary Ellen. We spent so much time reliving our youth and telling great stories! My Aunt Pat is still in pretty good health, living in Iowa, and trying to keep the rest of the family in check! I wish we could get her to put her memories on tape for all of us to enjoy down through the years!

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This is the family tree of my Grandpa Russell Lundy. As you can see, he was born in 1885 and died in 1969. He was a wonderful man, and my memory of him is that he always had a big cigar in his mouth.

As you can see, his people came from England and France.

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These are some old photos of my Grandpa Lundy’s parents.

This family tree information and the old photos are from my cousin Beth Tasler who lives in Iowa. She compiled them for the family reunion.

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This is my Grandma Lundy’s family tree. Her name was Emma. Her father was originally named Underbakke, but he and his wife didn’t like the name because it meant “under the hill,” and he and his wife thought it sounded low class, so they changed it to Klingson when they immigrated to reflect his father’s name!

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This is a very old picture of my Great Grandfather, Thore Underbakke Klingson of Sand, Norway. He married Asgjaerd Foss of Suhldall, Norway. She was happy to take the name of Klingson, because she didn’t want to be known as “Miss Fuss!”

(We didn’t know any of this until I read my mother’s memoir!) You might notice that her mother was an Underbakke and her mother was a Lunde! These are my Grandma’s parents.

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Wedding pictures of my Grandpa Russell Lundy and Grandma Emma Lundy. When I knew them, they lived on a small farm in Churdan, IA.

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These are some later pictures of my grandparents. I was closer to them than to my dad’s parents. You might remember that when my dad was in the army, Mom, Dennis and I lived with them for quite some time.

My mother and her sister Evelyn when they were babies.

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As I said, I don’t know as much about my dad’s history, but Cousin Beth supplied me with some dates and some history that I was unaware of before the family reunion. Thanks, Beth, for adding to the story!

George’s Grandparents: Daniel Lawler - B. Ireland Anna B. Ireland

Michael McKane B. 1850, Rhode Island Catherine McCarthy - B. 1856, Ireland

George’s Parents: (My Dad) Daniel Lawler - B. Queen’s County, Ireland, 1869 Mary McKane - B. Iowa City, IA, 1877 Daniel Lawler and his wife, Mary, almost 8 years younger than he, had 10 children, two of whom died in infancy.

The youngest who survived infancy, Mary, died of scarlet fever when she was in high school. (This from Beth. Dad said they had gone sledding and she fell ill that evening. She died the next night. There was no such thing as penicillin in those days, so there was nothing they could do for her except keep her as comfortable as possible. Her death affected my dad and the whole family deeply.)

Dad’s father, Daniel, died of complications from a train accident. His oldest of 7 surviving children, Leonard, was only 14 when he, with the help of his mother, became the man of the house and took over running things on a farm near Wall Lake, IA. Of the seven siblings, Leonard, Josephine, Ursula, Ray, George, Vince, and Monica, only two (Ray and George) had children. Monica (who was my godmother), the youngest of the 7 who survived into adulthood had Multiple sclerosis, but lived a longer life than any of her siblings.

Leonard became estranged from Dad, Josephine married Walter Clifford later in life. She lived in Chicago and worked for the IRS. Ray farmed in IA. Ursula owned a hair salon in Des Moines, IA. I never knew Vince very well, but he survived a POW camp in Germany during WWII. I can’t remember when he died. Monica had MS.

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My Family Tree: Daniel Lawler

Mary McKane

Russell Lundy

George Harold Lawler 9/24/1916 - 4/28/1985

Emma Klingson

Beatrice LaVonne Lundy 7/13/1916 - 11/3/1996

Margaret Anne 7/17/1942

Stephen Edward Vanourny 7/15/1942

Suzanne Vallier 5/31/1947

Dennis Michael 12/6/1944

Robert Edward

Bonnie Sue Lomax 4/13/1948

7/29/1947-10/22/20

Robert Thede M. 2/28/1960 (Divorced)

Mary Ellen 2/28/1950

Clifford Shields 11/15/1975 George Jr. 9/24/1952-4/30/08

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One of the few pictures on my family all together and looking pretty good. I don’t remember the occasion, but we were all dressed up. These were the days of the bouffant hairdos for the girls and certainly before the long hair hippy days of the boys, so I would guess this was somewhere in the fifties.

Mom and Dad are in front, seated.

From left to right in back are Dennis, Bob, me, George, and Mary.

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Now on to Steve’s History I don’t have a lot of the specific information about Steve’s side of the family as far as a family tree, dates of births and deaths, etc. of his descendants. His Aunt Marcella was the keeper of the family lore, and I believe much of that information was given to Stephanie some years ago. I will, however, include some pictures that I have of his family, because I think you might find them of interest.

As you might suspect, with names like Muhl, Bormann, and Vanourny, your father’s history has a past from Germany, the Czech Republic, and what used to be called Bohemia. They came from humble beginnings, but also from people who were intelligent, brave, I think musical, and who had to have a sense of adventure and humor to have braved and endured the things they did to have become so successful in a different country. And, although they did learn to speak English and learn American ways, there was a strong Czech population in Cedar Rapids, and many of the older people still pronounced the name “Vanourny,” “Vanyarny” when we lived there!

This is a picture of John and Catherine Bormann, who would be Grandma Vanourny’s grandparents! The girl in the white dress is Clara, to her left is Mary, then Joe. The man with the mustache is the father, John, and the mother is seated, Catherine. The young woman standing is Kate, Grandma Vanourny’s mother. The other children are named Theresa, next to her father I think, then Gus, John next to Kate, and finally little Ben.

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Here is another picture of Kate, or Kathryn Bormann - a more formal portrait. She married a man named Theodore Muhl, and they are the parents of Grandma Margaret Vanourny and her only sister, Marcella Muhl. Margaret’s father Theodore owned a lumber company in Vinton, IA. I don’t remember him, but Grandma Kate, as I remember, was a bit strait-laced and proper.

She wasn’t mean or anything, just a bit cold. But then, I only knew her as an older woman. Sadly, she had a fall and broke her hip, and Marcella then stayed in her mother’s house (which was very close to the Vanourny house in Monticello) and lived with her mother to take care of her until she died. Looking back on this, it must have been hard for Marcella to do this. Marcella had graduated from Clarke College with a degree in library science and had worked at Mt. Mercy College in their library among other things. But this is what one did then when a parent needed help, so that’s what she did. After her mother died, Marcella moved to Cedar Rapids where she owned a condo in Blair House.

Skipping ahead a few years, here are Margaret and Ed all dressed up for the big day. I don’t know if you kids have ever seen Grandma Vanourny looking so young and radiant. And Grandpa sure looks pleased with himself as well! What a great day!

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The Wedding Party Grandpa’s brother Allen, Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt Marcella

And the Whole Group Theodore and Kate Muhl, Grandpa, Grandma, Clara and Ed Vanourny Not sure about the flower girl

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Proud Papa - 1943

Oh those curls! - 1944

Counteracted by Aunt Marcella’s GOOD Influence!

1947 Uncle Allen’s BAD Influence!

1944

Looks like the good guy won!

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When I was writing this book and going through my photo albums, I came across a special Christmas card I had saved from long ago from Steve’s Aunt Marcella. Inside the card was a typed note (actually typed on an old-fashioned typewriter!), folded and tucked inside the card. I had forgotten that it was there, but I am so glad I saved it; it is a treasure from Marcella, and I am so glad to be able to share it now with my children and grandchildren.

This is a 1991 reproduction of a 1954 photo reproduced into a book of memories in 2020 for a whole new generation of Vanourny children who never knew Theodore or Kathryn. But their parents knew and loved their Grandma Margaret Vanourny and their Grandpa Ed Vanourny and treasure them in their hearts. Thank you, Aunt Marcella!

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Chapter Thirteen Steve Sr.’s Story And now, as the late, great Paul Harvey used to say…..

Here is the rest of the story!

Vinton I was born in Vinton, IA on July 1, 1942; this is significant because it was only seven months after Pearl Harbor was bombed, forcing the United States into WWII. This had some effect on my early life. One year earlier my parents had their first baby, Catherine Claire, who lived only four days. Infant mortality was significantly higher in those days. Mother said she had high blood pressure and swollen ankles (presumably pre-eclampsia or toxemia) and Catherine, born about four weeks early, died of pneumonia (probably hyaline membrane disease). She said Dad administered open-drip ether in the delivery room. Pregnancy care improved vastly between 1941 and when our family was born.

Mom and Dad came of age in the heart of the depression. But I don’t recall that they suffered severely because of that. Mother worked as an assistant to the principal of the high school. Dad went to the University of Iowa for two years, living in Iowa City with an aunt and uncle, Mr. & Mrs. Nick Welter (Grandma Clara’s sister). I believe he played clarinet in the Iowa band.

Texas Dad worked in a munitions factory in Ankeny (near Des Moines) for a time early in the war. Eventually he was drafted and sent to Ft. Hood near Killeen, TX. This was a huge army base at the time and, to this day, is one of the largest military bases in the world, hosting at least two divisions. He was promoted to Corporal and was the company clerk (like Radar O’Reilly on M.A.S.H.).

Mom and I accompanied Dad to TX for a time. We lived in a dumpy little house near a river. One night, after heavy rains, the river flooded. Sheriff’s deputies came to our house in the middle of the night in a boat to rescue us from flooding. Mom recalled that the motor conked out and we were drifting toward a dam. We passed under a bridge and somebody threw us a line which prevented further danger until other rescuers could reach us. I think I have vague recollections of that house and playing by the river but two is pretty young.

Dad’s outfit was preparing to go to Europe (probably for D-Day) when, at a pre-deployment physical exam, he was found to have an inguinal hernia and mustered out of the service forthwith. Not fun, but may have saved his life.

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Vinton We went back to Vinton in 1944. At two-year intervals, Paul, Mark and John were born. I recall that Dad worked for Grandpa Ted at his lumber yard, Muhl-Coffing Lumber Yard. Later he was an assistant cashier at the Brenton Bank and Trust. I recall him telling me that he earned $75 a month. He was a hunter and often spent his lunch hours “road hunting”, usually bagging a pheasant or two (In those days, pheasant season opened on Armistice day at 11 am on Nov. 11, in memory of the time and date that the WW1 armistice went into effect).

We rented a small house a few blocks from Grandma and Grandpa Muhl, eventually building a new house a little further away. We saw them frequently and spent the night sometimes, sleeping on the screened in porch.

When I was staying there in the summer, Grandpa would go out for a little drive after lunch in his 1941 Buick. We’d go past his old lumber yard and he would tell me he had to send a truck to the rail yard to pick up a carload of post holes. Sometimes he wouldn’t stop at a stop sign. I’d admonish him and he’d say, “That’s ok, I’ll stop twice next time.” Remember, this was a small town and traffic was not much of an issue.

We would always stop to visit Bill Schult (sp?). Don’t know much about him but he was an older guy who was disabled. He lived in a little cabin or sorts, maybe 8’ by 12’ in size. He spent most of his time in bed and smoked a pipe incessantly. Don’t think there was TV yet but he would listen to the Army-McCarthy hearings on the radio. It could be moved because I remember it being in at least two different places. I think Grandpa might have owned or rented the land for him and maybe even owned the cabin.

Grandpa Ted was a very kind, generous and loveable man. He was the first person I knew well who died. I remember feeling terrible about that.

Often, on Sundays, we would drive to the farm where Dad grew up, near Swisher, IA, to visit our other Grandma & Grandpa. Most times, one or more of Dad’s brothers and families showed up as well so we saw our cousins, too. Of course, Grandma Clara always cooked a very tasty meal and the men had a beer or two and talked a lot about guns & ammunition.

They didn’t have running water, so there was a rickety old out-house to serve our bathroom needs. There was also a pump near the kitchen where we got water. Grandma had a two-gallon white porcelain bucket for drinking water complete with a ladle which everybody used for a drink. In the afternoon, the men would shoot their beloved guns. One of Dad’s brothers taught me to curse. I learned to shoot (and curse) at a very young age!

We would spend a week at the farm some summers. Grandma Clara was a good and loving caregiver. She had a very big garden, raised chickens and collected eggs every day. They raised most of their own food and had a big Amana freezer in the kitchen.

Grandpa Ed was more aloof and business-like but always nice to us. When they retired, 118

they built a small home in Amana, IA. Grandma worked for a time at the Ox-Yoke Inn and the Amana Woolen Mill. Grandpa lived to age 103.

We went to West Grade School in Vinton. I’d guess it was about ten to fifteen blocks away and we always walked. No two car families in those days. But nobody thought anything about itthat’s just what kids did. The school was overcrowded so they used nearby “annexes” which were one room buildings. I attended classes in the big, newer building for second and fourth grades and in an annex for first and third grades.

Actually, that worked fine. After school we played with neighborhood kids. A boy named Mike Hibbs lived about two blocks away; he wasn’t particularly big, but he was a tough little kid. He was stronger, faster, and quicker that the rest of us, but he was nice. You just knew he would be a jock someday. More about him later.

One experience in Vinton was not fun. Brother Mark contracted poliomyelitis when he was about three or four. Epidemics of polio were common in the late forties and early fifties. Many people died and others were confined to iron lungs (respirators). Mark was taken to University Hospitals, Grandma Kate cried on the phone and the sheriff came to our house and posted a quarantine sign on our front door. My other brothers and I were confined to our yard for two weeks. The neighbors on both sides went on vacation. The municipal pool was closed. Fortunately, Mark’s illness was mild and he was home within a week. Now he could go anywhere because he was immune but the rest of us still were confined to our yard. It ended happily and within a few years we were all standing in line at the Community Center receiving the Salk, and then later, the Sabin vaccines. Polio is now completely eliminated worldwide.

Monticello In 1951, Dad bought the John Deere dealership in Monticello. Over Christmas break we packed up, left our friends and family and moved seventy miles away, which seemed a lot in those days. I was nine and half-way through fourth grade. Teresa was born a year or so later so our family was complete. This was a new experience because while Vinton had only a small Catholic church, Monticello had a much larger church – and a Catholic school, Sacred Heart School. I spent grades four through ten there. There were only about a dozen kids in each grade and two grades to one classroom. Not exactly the one-room schoolhouse of yore but not too, too unlike it. We had the Franciscan nuns, about eight or ten of them who lived in a 119

house next to school. Although Mother knew it at the time, this little school was not exactly a prep school. I don’t think most of the nuns had college degrees. I recall that, after I was there a month or so, the fourth-grade teacher asked me to arrive at class promptly so I could teach the other kids to do long division. We had learned that in Vinton the previous year! Usually I would finish the math book on my own before the years was out.

Once again, we all walked to school most days, or in the warmer weather, rode our bikes. Ok, ok, if there was a blizzard, sometimes we got a ride. We played as kids do. All the boys were active in Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, and Explorer Scouts. We all went to summer camp at Camp Waubeek and did a lot of camping on our own. Brother Mark actually went to a National Jamboree and I always envied him the opportunity. I think most or all of the boys became Eagle Scouts.

My brothers and I were all active at church and were altar boys when we were the right age. Usually we started in the fifth grade.

I got to start a little earlier because I could say the Confiteor earlier than most. My aunt Marcella taught another boy and me all the Latin responses the summer between third and fourth grades so we could start serving Mass in Vinton. You can imagine how thrilled we were to be learning Latin instead of being out playing. We all served at hundreds of Masses over the years. We would do the 6:45 a.m. Mass for a week at a time (always walking to church). And then there were Sundays, weddings, funerals, Lent, yadda, yadda. We spent a lot of time in church. Once in a while at a wedding we’d get a little gift – like $5.

The rest was just for the honor and glory……

When I was old enough, I worked for Dad at the dealership. I did everything including sweeping floors, washing windows, mowing grass, selling parts, putting machinery together, delivering machinery and driving to Moline, IL to the John Deere factory to pick up urgently needed parts. One time, a good customer hit a rock and bent the frame of a six-row corn planter. His son and I drove to Moline in a pickup to get a new frame. Of course, it stuck out the back end of the truck about six feet and had no light on it. We picked it up about one a.m. and arrived back at his farm about three a.m. Very dangerous! The farmer and his son went to work putting it back in working order. I got to go home to bed.

By the time I was in tenth grade, Mother had had enough with the small Catholic school. She just knew that if we didn’t get a better education in high school we’d never get into or succeed in college. Beginning with Paul and me, we transferred to the public school for high school. By most standards it was still a pretty small school but at least there were about 80 students per class, and a variety of courses were offered, with some being college prep. That was a good decision on her part and one for which I am grateful.

I had always wished I could play football and now I could. But there was a joker. The state governing body for interscholastic athletics decreed that, if you changed schools while living in the same town, you had to sit out a year. I assume this was to discourage 120

recruiting in high school. Thus, I could practice and travel with the team but not play. I could and did play as a senior.

Our high school conference was the WAMAC. These were all towns on the Wapsipinicon, Maquoketa, or Cedar Rivers, hence the name. The year I was a junior, our final game was with Vinton where we previously lived. During the game, Mike Hibbs, the playmate I mentioned earlier, sustained a broken neck, leaving him paralyzed from the neck down. Disaster!! But he survived, went to college in Illinois, I think, because they offered some sort of program for students with this sort of injury. He got a degree in math and taught most of his life at the Iowa Braille and Sight Saving School in Vinton.

This is a regent’s school and was a residential school for students with visual issues. I don’t know much about it but I think it discontinued residential activities about ten years ago when they decided to mainstream their clients and provide services closer to home, much like other agencies with similar missions. I think it changed its name, but I don’t know if it’s in business any longer.

After I retired, Mike stopped in my former office at St. Luke’s one day and asked Jo Beth how he could get in touch with me. We re-established contact and exchanged several emails (even this was difficult for him) and one or two phone calls. About three years ago, his wife (yes, he had actually married, one of his caregivers, I think) sent an email that he had decided that he wasn’t going to treat an infection and let nature take its course. He died peacefully a short time later.

Dubuque I graduated in 1960 from Monticello High School. I wanted to go to Iowa State, but Mother insisted I spend at least one year at a Catholic college. Dad was on my side because of cost but when Mother cried, Loras it was! I matriculated at Loras College in Dubuque in the fall or 1960. Turns out to have been a good choice. Didn’t like engineering, I learned, and rapidly switched to pre-med. Fortunately, I did well and had no trouble getting into medical school. I met Peg at a dance at the Clarke Union when we were sophomores. I liked her a lot and soon fell in love. But after about three months, she decided she could do better, so she broke it off. Damn! But after another two or three months, she learned that she couldn’t do that much better. I was in a forgiving mood so here we are 56 years later.

I continued to work at anything I could find while I was in college. Worked for Dad, did a lot of farm work including cultivating corn, baling hay, combining oats, road construction, painting and about anything else that paid. Drove to Fort Dodge now and then to see Peg and started medical school in the fall of 1963.

Iowa City Medical school isn’t that hard but it sure does take a lot of time. The first two years were all book learning of the basic sciences: anatomy, histology biochemistry, microbiology, physiology, then pharmacology, pathology and others. The last two years are the clinical years in which you actually do physical exams, phlebotomies, deliveries and other things that real doctors do. There wasn’t much fear of flunking out because if you were smart enough to get in, you were smart enough to graduate. If people left it was usually because they just didn’t like it. In those days there was still a degree of hazing that went 121

on. By that I mean there were really disagreeable professors who enjoyed make a fool out of students and striking fear in their hearts. I was fortunately never the subject of much of that, but I really didn’t like medical school that much. Classes took almost all day and there was studying at night.

But there was fun, too. I lived in a medical fraternity the first year. These were just places to stay rather than typical Greek system fraternities. We were now old enough to drink legally and we partook in some of that. We made good friends, too. We still see Ron Rehmann, Bob Burgfechtel, Duane Bailey and Fred Bockenstedt. Burgy and I live in FL and the others come for the winter, so we try to get together. Our visit last year was cancelled because of the pandemic. Hope we can do it in 2021.

Peg and I were married the summer between first and second years and settled into a 10’ X 50’ mobile home which, unfortunately, burned to the ground in January. We recovered and, with the help of friends, found a nice apartment where we lived for the remainder or our time in Iowa City. It was there that we met Dick and Stephanie Johnson who subsequently have become life-long best friends. Dick was working on his Ph.D. in Mechanics and Hydraulics after having graduated from Iowa State with a degree in Aeronautical Engineering. He’s one of the smartest guys I’ve ever known.

Stephanie taught at the Hospital School.

Peg taught at St. Mary’s school for the princely sum of $300 a month but she only was paid for ten months. The parish also paid her social security. Wow! But she liked it and it worked out ok.

In the fall of my third year Stephanie came along to change our life. But what a change it was! Loved every minute of it, but I suppose Peg bore the brunt of everything. That was a time when I selfishly thought children were women’s work. I feel bad about that attitude every day. But Peg is pretty resilient and seemed to tolerate it just fine. The children owe a lot to her.

There were tests, tests, tests. And then more tests. There were the State of Iowa basic science exams and finally, following graduation, Iowa licensing exams. Graduation was just one more step in the process.

The Bockenstedts and we took a two-week trip out west to look at and interview for internships. Although once we passed our licensure exams, the State didn’t issue a license until we did a one-year internship. We had this notion that we should go west and visited Spokane, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco and Salt Lake City. Came back unimpressed, visited Hurley Hospital in Flint, MI and rather immediately decided that was the place. The others I mentioned above did too, so we all interned together.

Flint After graduation in 1967, we loaded up all our earthly possessions and headed for Flint.

The Rehmanns and we rented a U-Haul truck. Ron drove the truck and I followed in his 1951 Plymouth. Peg, Mary Kay, and the two babies followed in our car. Stephanie was two, Julie was a month old, and Kristin was due in October. Hurley provided a nice furnished apartment which was right across the street from the hospital. The pay was now 122

$400 per month for twelve months. We worked hard because now we were real doctors doing real stuff to real patients. The rotations consisted of pediatrics (2 months), ER (2 months), OB (2 months). Internal medicine (3 months) and surgery (3 months).

Flint was a big industrial town dominated by General Motors. In those days, all the Buicks in the world were made in Flint. There were Fischer body plants, Chevrolet assembly plants, an AC-Delco plant and others. I think GM employed about 30,000-40,000 workers. Flint was about 35% black. You can imagine the environment. The ER rotation was exciting, particularly on Friday and Saturday nights with stabbings, gunshot wounds, auto accidents, asthmatics and a host of other medical problems. We learned a lot and it was, on balance, a good experience. But, as they say, “nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.”

About a month after we arrived in Flint, the great Detroit riot broke out. It lasted about a week, the National Guard was activated, snipers were shooting at doctors and nurses at Henry Ford Hospital and the town was on fire. All interns were placed on call, expecting the worst. It was awful and scared those of us from peaceful Iowa. I tried to fly Peg and Stephanie to Iowa, but they closed the airport. Flint police established a Marshall law-like environment and peace was restored. All returned to normal, but we’ll never forget that. A couple of months later, Kristin joined our little family. We now officially had our hands full.

At the time the Viet Nam War was in full flower. Senior medical students, all of whom were automatically deferred from the draft while in medical school, were sent a notice from the Department of Defense to ask whether we wanted to volunteer for a two-year commitment or take our chances with the draft. As an inducement, if you volunteered you could decide on which branch of the service you preferred, and they would try to honor your request for where you wanted to be assigned.

Another alternative was to request a further deferment to do a residency. By and large, residency program directors wanted and required your military status to be known before accepting a candidate because residency programs are highly structured and losing a doctor to the draft during training was really disruptive.

Since I was undecided whether to do family practice or a specialty, I thought practicing for two years in the military might be a good thing. I chose to volunteer immediately after internship and requested the Air Force and to be assigned to the mid-west. While I was in Flint, I received orders appointing me a 1st Lt. in the United States Air Force and assigning me to Selfridge AFB in Mt. Clemons, MI just north of Detroit. Not Hawaii, but better than Southeast Asia. (My friend, Ron Rehman, inveterate hunter and fisherman, requested Alaska. They sent him to Goose Bay, Labrador. As usual, Ron accepted this with aplomb.) Along the way the Air Force asked if I’d like to volunteer to be a flight surgeon. Sounded exciting, I thought, so I said yes.

In those days, hospitals were required by the Joint Commission on Accreditation to have a certain rate of autopsies. All of the wonderful diagnostic tools available today like MRIs, CTs, ultrasounds, etc. were not available then. One of the interns’ tasks was to get permission for autopsies from the next of kin, who were mostly reluctant. The hospital even established a prize for the intern who got the most autopsy consents, namely, a free weekend in Detroit. Big deal. I happened to have a lucky run and I found 123

out I was leading the race. I have to admit, I could talk people into autopsies really well.

Near the end of the year, other intern friends would call me to see if I wanted to talk to their patients’ survivors since I was ahead and in the running. I did and I won! But a weekend in Detroit? Get real. I settled for $250 which was a godsend as we departed for San Antonio and the Air Force.

United States Air Force Since I had volunteered for Aerospace Medicine training, we had to go to Brooks AFB in San Antonio, TX for eleven weeks of training. This, even though my permanent duty station was Selfridge AFB – only a hundred or so miles from Flint. They cautioned us not to bring our families because there was a World Fair or something going on in San Antonio and housing was in short supply. We went together anyway and, luckily found a very nice apartment we could rent by the week. Ron Rehmann actually found it for us and as they say, that’s another story.

I was promoted to captain the day we went on active duty. The first two weeks were basic Air Force stuff like getting paperwork filled out, haircuts, buying uniforms, learning how to wear them learning to salute and say “Yes, Sir,” even marching (not much) and things like that. The best part is that they gave us a uniform allowance and some other money amounting to nearly $1000, I think. That was the most money I’d ever had. And I needed it, because the autopsy money wasn’t going to last much longer.

Then the real business we were there for started. We had classes all day every day and, for the most part, they were interesting and of value. We had some training in war things like shooting the M-16 and gas mask training, parachute training (not really jumping), disorientation training, altitude chamber training and a few other things. All in all, aerospace medicine training was fun and useful. I liked it a lot and we had a nice time in San Antonio. Then on to Selfridge AFB in Michigan.

We drove through Iowa, dropping Peg and the girls off with my parents until base housing was available, and I headed for Michigan. I got checked in, did all the required stuff and went to work. A second flight surgeon, Steve Kalstein, whom I met in San Antonio had also just arrived. We were assigned to the 1st USAF Hospital and attached to the 94th Fighter Interceptor Squadron. We did our flight physicals, went to the pilot’s briefing every morning a seven, visited with the pilots, talked over minor medical issues, answered crash calls, etc. We were short of pediatricians, so I worked in the pediatric clinic two or three afternoons a week, took my turn at Medical Officer of the Day (MOD)-basically the guy that was on call that day and night. Base housing became available and our family was reunited. We settled into a routine and things were smooth.

While I was an intern, the Pueblo Incident occurred. A navy spy ship was, well, spying and, while doing so, the North Koreans captured the ship and crew. Big fuss. POTUS raised the level of alert and, rattling the nuclear saber, announced he was sending reinforcements to South Korea. Several F-106 squadrons, including the 94th would be sent to Korea for six months on a temporary duty (TDY) basis. We were to go from about 124

late May to late November of 1969. Since there were two flight surgeons, we would split the time.

In the meantime, there was a lot to do to prepare the squadron for a long deployment, including immunizations, updated physical exams and wills, and a myriad of paperwork items. And the day to day business went on. In May, the squadron left, planes and all and I was the only flight surgeon remaining which really wasn’t bad because there just wasn’t that much to do. Our operations officer left a passel of kids behind who were always sick. I visited his kids at home a couple of times because his wife was really frazzled. When I got to Korea, he was really grateful that I had helped his family and I felt good about it.

Then in August or so I flew to Korea and relieved the other Steve. I had previously decided to join a general practice in Fenton, MI when my Air Force time was over. I knew them from internship and had moonlight for them several time while in the service. I still hadn’t signed anything and suddenly I knew that I wanted to go back to Iowa and do the OB-Gyn residency. I called Dr. Keetel the day before departing for Korea and we talked. I told him I had to leave for Korea the next morning. We talked again the next morning and he said, “You really put this off, didn’t you?” I agreed I had but he said he would accept me. He’d still like me to fill out the application which I promised I would do. I kissed Peg good bye and said, “We’re not going to Fenton after all. We’re going back to Iowa City!” How does she tolerate me?

Korea was actually pretty boring because there were three flight surgeons, the base flight surgeon and two TDY flight surgeons – myself and a guy with an F-4 squadron from Japan. On top of that the squadrons had their own medics who looked after the enlisted personnel. There was hardly enough work for one. I attended the pilot’s briefing each morning at 6:30 a.m. Then over to the enlisted men to see if their medics had anybody I should see. Then every third day I did sick call at the hospital. I was pretty much done by 10 a.m.

We got home just before Thanksgiving and the family was once more united. Took a few days to adjust to the time zone change but it’s surprising how quickly the old routine returns. Shortly after the first of the year, the 94th FIS was ordered to move to Wurtsmith AFB, further north in Michigan. We were left without a fighter squadron although we still had Navy, Airforce Reserve, and Coast Guard pilots to be vigilant of. But it wasn’t the same and I was happy to see July 1 arrive. I took off my uniform and headed for University Hospitals in Iowa City.

Iowa City Residency is the part of medical training where young doctors become specialists in areas such as OB-Gyn, Urology, Ophthalmology, General Surgery, etc. Depending on the specialty a residency takes two to ten years, mostly two to four years. At the time, the OB-Gyn residency was three years, but over time the internship year was dropped, and residencies added a year; OB-Gyn became a four-year residency. My post-graduate time was thus four years in total, one year as an intern and three more as a resident.

Residency is a time when young physicians basically study and work only in their specialty under the tutelage of experienced professors. Again, this isn’t so terribly difficult, 125

but it takes a lot of time and a lot of on-call night and weekend work. We start at the bottom and gradually assume more and more responsibility. It’s really just sophisticated on the job training.

Dr. Keetel, head of the OB-Gyn department was a smart guy and pretty skillful. Interestingly, he served as a medical officer for the Manhattan Project during WWII in Oak Ridge, TN. The Manhattan Project was the atomic bomb initiative. He was nationally known and, while not being a warm, fuzzy kind of guy was respectful and really wanted “his” residents to be well trained. The first week, he called the four of us new first year guys into his office and politely but firmly informed us of his expectations. He told us to remember that we had three jobs: the first was to provide excellent medical care to the indigent population of Iowa; the second was to teach the medical students; the third, he said was to become excellent OB-Gyn doctors, which would occur naturally if we did the first two well. I never forgot that admonition.

The bad part was that the pay was $7000 per year, rising by $1000 each year, so our family was in a perpetual poverty situation. The second year I was less busy and my call, while frequent, was “second” call so I got to sleep more. During that year I drove to Davenport two or three nights a month to moonlight in an emergency room. I also took Student Health call at the University and a couple of times a month did family planning clinics in Cedar Rapids. These didn’t pay much better (like $30/night for Student Health call). But a little money was better than no money.

The last year of the residency was the year with the greatest responsibility and opportunity for doing major procedures We were basically on call all the time, but it was from home and most nights I didn’t have to go in. An exception was the occurrence of a ruptured uterus during a delivery one evening. I went in, evaluated the situation, determined that the patient required an immediate post-partum hysterectomy, and called Dr. Keetel, who happened to be the staff person on call that night. This is a pretty unusual situation and can be life threatening. I was sure he would want to come in and manage the case. But he said, “Steve, you can you handle this, can’t you?” I gulped and said yessir! Welcome to the big leagues!

Part of the last year was spent in Des Moines at Iowa Methodist Hospital where a copious amount of gynecologic surgery was done. Also, Broadlawns Hospital, the county hospital, was where we covered the OB-Gyn service, doing problem deliveries and major Gyn cases. Except for being away from home for four to five months it was a good experience.

We were doing 300 plus deliveries a month and the senior resident was in charge with the help of three or four more junior residents. Many of our OB patients came from long distances and were required to spend the last few weeks of their pregnancy in residence at a former nursing student’s dormitory. This was hard on these young women. Several medical students and a junior resident would accompany me to visit the dorm (across the street from the hospital) three time a week to see new admissions, do weekly (or more) prenatal checks on the patients who were already there and to evaluate patients for elective induction of labor. The average census was 40-50 patients and it was always crowded. Dr. Keetel had published papers on elective induction and indicated to us we should try to induce up to 25% of these patients. By being proactive I could keep the census below 30 which was a great relief for the staff. It prevented those nightmarish 126

nights when eight to ten patients would happen to go into labor at the same time, causing chaos in the delivery room and strain on the nursing staff. Some of the senior medical students on delivery room call would get many deliveries and others only a few. Being active with elective inductions evened all that out. Some of the faculty marveled that I could do that.

All in all, even though I didn’t like medical school that much, I really enjoyed my residency. The faculty treated us with respect, and I got good feedback. By this time, I could operate as well or better than most of the faculty. And I learned I could manage the OB service well. I was invited to stay for the oncology fellowship. But, with Stephen’s birth in April 1973, I was now 30 years old and had significant family responsibilities. It was time to get a real job.

A retiring doctor in Cedar Rapids, Dr. Phil Crew, called Dr. Keetel saying he wanted to retire and asked for help in finding a replacement. Dr. Keetel said I should think about this. At the time, Cedar Rapids had a reputation that the general surgeons did most of the gyn surgery. And fee-splitting was rampant. He thought my surgical skills could help change that. I learned that Phil had a big practice, so Bill Davis joined me. Phil didn’t really want us to buy the practice, just his equipment. We met with an appraiser who went through piece by piece and said everything together was worth about $3500.

I thought Phil would go ballistic, but he said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Whew! We told Phil we should draw up some kind of agreement, but he said a handshake was enough. I couldn’t live with that so, after some coaxing, he agreed to sign an agreement as long as it was on one page. John Bickel, our attorney, said he didn’t think he could do an agreement that short, but I told him it was absolutely necessary. In the end we got our one-page agreement and Dr. Crew was happy – and so were Bill and I. So began the major part of my life.

Cedar Rapids We started practice in Cedar Rapids on July 5, 1973. We had agreed with Phil that he would spend a few days with us showing us the ropes, introducing us to his (now our) staff and his patients. We met Phil at about 7:30 in the morning on the 5th at the hospital and made rounds on the hospital patients. It took us a couple of hours and when we finished, Phil turned to Bill and me and said, “Good luck, fellows. I’ll see you when I see you.” He turned and walked away.

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Epilogue We didn’t even have a key to the office! We had to walk in through the waiting room.

The staff didn’t know who we were. Some of them cried. Ona was his office manager.

Thank God for her. She took things in stride and got us going. The waiting room was full. We were behind and would never catch up. What an introduction to the practice.

That evening, we visited with Ona. I never knew for sure if she knew we were coming.

When I asked her if she would stay, she’d said she’d help us get going for a few weeks and then leave. She did leave – but happily about ten years later. Bill and I owe her everything.

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My Final Thoughts about 2020

As I write this Memoir, our country is in the throes of another divisive battle of politics, race and creed. We are going through civil battles that remind me of those of the 40s, the 60s and the 70s which pitted youth against their parents, liberals against conservatives, hawks against pacifists, socialists against constitutionalists. I know it’s historical, but all the hate mongering, name calling and aggression of Americans toward each other saddens me.

New books have appeared which have coined new terms, at least new to me. We now are called to view ourselves as systemically racist, to realize that we should feel guilty for our “whiteness,” to apologize for being born white, and to give reparation to all people of color because they have been mistreated since this country was formed.

Well, I cannot do this. I cannot, in my mind apologize to my wonderful parents, not to my husband’s wonderful parents, and not to my ancestors before them! I am proud of them, and I always will be. My father’s family came from Ireland, worked on farms and finally were able to buy a farm of their own, send their children to school, and see that they got jobs or continued to work the family farm to support their own children. My mother’s family came from Norway; she sewed clothes for other women, and he worked on farms, raised chickens and did all kinds of odd jobs for other people. They learned the English language and got their children educated so they could work and support themselves.

Steve’s family did the same thing, coming to the U.S. from the Czech Republic, Poland and Germany, again farming and working in the Midwest to give their children an education and a good life in the Midwest.

My dad, my husband, and many of our relatives served our country in the military, fighting, being held in POW camps, and giving their lives to keep our country free from socialism, fascism and dictatorships. We saw first-hand what happened in countries such as Germany, Italy, Poland, Cuba and Venezuela when dictators took over and socialism was the rule rather than a democratic republic.

I realize that some people of color feel that they are looked down upon because of the color of their skin, but I also feel that this country has tried to help people better their lives for many years, even if the attempts have not always been successful and have met with opposition. I know there are racists in our country, and there probably always will be - on both sides of the issue - but I do not believe that our country is systemically racist. There is a difference.

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This country offers a wealth of opportunity to people of many races, religions, and abilities. I have volunteered in many ways: teaching young children (4 and 5 year olds) to read before they go to school, teaching adult immigrants to speak English, giving money and food to needy people. All of my children and many of my friends, I am proud to say, also help in their communities as well. But this is not enough. People also need to take responsibility for themselves and their own actions.

I don’t think I am a racist. Some of my children and grandchildren may disagree with that statement, but I stand by it! And I am old enough that I am not going to change it. I do, however, make some judgements about people, young and old, fair or not, about them when I see them or hear them. I do judge people by how I see them act and how I see them treat other people.

This is why I believe the best thing I have ever done is raise three children of whom I am immensely proud! It was not always easy, and I know they did not always like me for what I and my husband did at the time. But I think they know that we always loved them.

Stephanie, Kristin, and Stephen: I am always humbled by all that you do! Thank you for being who you are. Lloyd and Krista: thank you for being so good to us and for loving and helping your spouses every step of the way. I know they often needed you, and you gave of yourselves to them and to your wonderful children. And I am so happy to see that you are raising children who are so much like you - kind, loving young adults who are well educated and who will know, I hope, how to make their way in the world with honor and wisdom.

And in birth order: Jane, Rachel, Jack, Elsa, and Emily: your parents have given you wonderful examples and large shoes to fill, and fill them I am sure that you will. I have watched you grow from infants to toddlers learning to walk to students with inquiring minds and caring souls. I know that we will be leaving the world in good hands with people like you, and that definitely gives me hope for the future. I love you more than you will ever know!!

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And so, here we are - to end where we started. It has been a great ride, these past 78 years, and I am proud of what Steve and I have accomplished. My dad once said to me that we wouldn’t know if we had done a good job raising our children until we saw how our grandchildren turned out. Well, Dad, I think we did a pretty good job, don’t you?

A special thanks to Lloyd Peterson and Krista Mart Vanourny who have loved and stood beside Stephanie and Stephen for many years. We love you and admire you, and you truly make our family complete!

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RIP

RIP Sadly, I must add that my dear brother Bob lost his courageous battle with cancer as I close this memoir. He passed away in the late afternoon of October 22, 2020 in his home in Cape Coral, FL with his wife Bonnie by his side. Bob, I will always miss you, and I will try to remember all the wonderful times we had together rather than the last few months. You were a courageous soldier at the end, and I am glad God gave you your final weeks with no pain. Please say hello to Mom and Dad for me. I know they have been waiting to see you and that they are saving you a place beside them. God bless you, dear brother!

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