The 1909 Tenney Cyclone

This past Spring, I had the opportunity to speak at the state Medical Assistant conference. It was a unique speaking engagement. I mean, what does THE TENNEY QUILT have to do with Medical Assistants? Well, as it turned out, it was one of my best events ever in terms of book sales, and it received great reviews. The gist of my presentation was to relate the characteristics of many of my Tenney women to the characteristics that these Medical Assistants needed as part of their jobs and in the process, told the stories of the Tenney women.

Some days after that event a young woman named Holly, who had purchased a book after my presentation, sent me an email and told me an interesting story. She had purchased two books, figuring that her 78-year-old mother would be interested in reading the book. When Holly presented the book to her mother as a gift, her mother thought that the name “Tenney” sounded familiar. A while later that day as Holly was still visiting at her mother’s home and her mother had been paging through the book, Holly heard a gasp. Her mother had just come upon the “Voss” name in THE TENNEY QUILT. She quickly went and rifled through her father’s (Holly’s grandfather’s) postcard collection and returned with two old past cards.

The two postcards contained photos of a debris-strewn Voss farm, both with identical inscriptions: “BUILDINGS ON VOSS FARM WRECKED BY CYCLONE MAY 20, 09. TENNEY, MINNESOTA.” Apparently when Holly’s grandfather was a boy, he collected postcards. That boy’s father (Holly’s great grandfather) traveled the state as did so many young men, working the fields at planting or harvest time or both. He sent postcards to his young son when he was away from home. He had most likely worked at the Voss farm during the 1909 time frame. Holly’s mother had looked through this postcard collection many times, so the names “Voss” and “Tenney” had stuck in her mind. Have any of you heard stories of this storm? There are several members of the Voss family on the quilt and if I remember correctly, some of them lived somewhere between Tenney and Tintah. Or was it Nashua? Members of the Voss family who appear on the Tenney Quilt are Mathilda/Tillie (Kath) Voss, who was the wife of Herman Voss, Tillie's two sons, Harry and Ed Voss, Harry's wife Anna (Ann) and son Delmer.

I thank Holly for sending me images of the postcards, accompanied by this fascinating story. (I was not able to post the photos to his blog due to the format in which the photos were sent to me). I am amazed at the number of people whose lives are connected in some way to Tenney. Even those folks with no apparent connection to Tenney sometimes find a connection, such as Holly did, in a most unusual way!

We All Need A Break Once In Awhile

Pardon my hiatus from writing recently; after a crazy winter and spring season of book events, I enjoyed a few months off but am now ready to ramp up the schedule and hit the road again. With that will come more Tenney connections and more stories and more blog writing.

Not that I have been sitting around painting my toenails all summer….I enjoyed a trip to Hawaii with my husband, daughter and two-year-old granddaughter in June, visiting our son and daughter-in-law who live in Honolulu. We just returned from our annual Grand Marais camping trip. Nearly every weekend in between, we have had a family event of some sort, with lots of visits from our sweet little granddaughter and her mom and dad. Oh – and I work full-time, too.

I was very excited to hear a song on the radio at some point this summer entitled, “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead.” It sort of captures the essence of my life and my schedule over the past year. Well OK, over the past 52 years. I’ve decided that’s my theme song. Truly, when I get home from work late in the afternoon, there are so many fun things to do that I don’t know where to start. Unfortunately, I also don’t know when to stop. Staying up is way more fun than going to bed.

The break in the book activities over the summer allowed me to reflect on a very satisfying year. When I published THE TENNEY QUILT, I really didn’t know what to expect. I figured I would have no problem selling the book to those who have a direct connection to our little town of Tenney. But beyond that, I really had no clue—though in my humble opinion I felt that the book did indeed have an appeal beyond the confines of Wilkin County. As it turns out, no matter where I go or to whom I speak, people are interested in the stories of Tenney’s early women and their lives.

I’ve done about 25 book signings and speaking events since the book was published last November, from church groups to college groups to women’s groups to libraries to quilt shows. I am aware of about 30 libraries that circulate the book. It is available for sale in several retail outlets as well as online at amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Borders Books, and a host of other websites. I considered it a victory to get the book in to the Bookstore at the Minnesota History Center in St. Paul, and am now getting some speaking engagements in the Twin Cities and beyond. Later this summer and fall I will be speaking to groups in Minnesota, North Dakota, Nebraska, and Wisconsin. So the circle of interest is widening. Sales have been good, but books aren’t flying off the shelves like they were in the beginning, and I’m definitely not getting rich. I keep putting gas in the car, I speak at no charge, and can’t resist the temptation to give books away now and then. But whenever I get a chance to show people the Tenney Quilt, tell its story, and talk about the women who made it, people are interested. They love the story, and they think about their own mothers and grandmothers and the small towns where they grew up. And they buy books. What fun it has been!

While it is a kick to take the Tenney Quilt on the road and talk about it to anybody who will listen, by far the best part of this whole experience has been the connections I have made with people who have a soft spot in their hearts for the little town of Tenney. People tell me that the book brought back so many memories—a treasured childhood, a cherished grandmother, a simpler place. Roller skating in the Town Hall. Hearing the sound of the train whistle on a hot summer night. Getting a drink of water at the town pump. Buying a penny gumball out of the machine at the Larson Store. Bringing the cream to town.

And at many of the book events, I have seen people with a common past making connections with each other. The Tenney Gathering on May 10 still defies words for me. Yes, the weather was miserable and yes, the old Tenney Church was not exactly the Holiday Inn Conference Center. There was more nose-dripping than at a pre-school sledding party. But I still get such a warm feeling when I think of the looks, the conversations, and the embraces that I witnessed that day. In Elaine (Manthie) Streyffeler’s words, “I still get shivers thinking of that day in the old Tenney Church…all the people that I hadn’t seen for years….” To think that the words that I chose to put on the pages of that book brought people together that hadn’t seen each other for years…and talked about things that were so pleasurable to them…wow, I wonder if the wonder of that day will ever diminish for me.

I want to thank those of you who have told me stories about picking up the telephone and calling your cousin in another part of the country and saying, “You gotta read this book!” Or telling me about a guy who hardly EVER sits down a reads a book, but who sat down and read THE TENNEY QUILT from cover to cover, and then couldn’t stop talking about it. Or telling me about reading the book to an elderly friend or family member and trying to describe to me their words or the look on their faces as they listened. Can you imagine how good that makes me feel?

So……..it’s been a good year. This time last year I was putting the finishing touches on the book and getting things all set up with the publisher, sweating bullets about getting the darn thing published prior to the Christmas season. A lot has happened, and THE TENNEY QUILT has had an effect on an awful lot of people. Thank you for letting me transport you to a place that was good to think about for awhile.

In my next blog entry, I’ll talk about a few of the Tenney stories I’ve received from my readers over the course of the last several months.

The Depot Agent

Do you know this guy (on the right)? Matt Kapitan was the depot agent in Tenney, sometimes called the “Soo Agent,” from 1910 to 1939. Matt was married to Gertie, a local Tenney girl who is featured in THE TENNEY QUILT. So many of you knew Gertie, but perhaps not her husband, Matt, since he passed away in 1947. I had never seen a photo of Matt at the depot until his daughter, Adeline, provided me with this one a few months ago. I love the uniform; something about a guy dressing up in full uniform and hat, and walking from his sleeping quarters to his working quarters in the same building in the little town of Tenney tickles me. But it also shows the pride and seriousness in which Matt approached his position.

Matt was not a Tenney native, though his and Gertie’s family was certainly one of those Tenney families that anyone living today would think of as being there for their entire memory. Born in 1877 in northeastern Kansas, 32-year-old Matt landed in Tenney in 1909 after attending telegraph school in Wisconsin. He came by himself, and lived in the depot. It wasn’t long before Matt made note of a beautiful young 18-year-old woman, Gertie Reinhard, a school teacher who taught in a small school north of Breckenridge, but came home to Tenney frequently [by horse and buggy, I might add]. Despite a 15-year age difference, Matt and Gertie married in 1912 in the Reinhard farm house, with my grandfather, A.N. Larson, serving as Matt’s best man.

Tenney has always been, and still is, a railroad town. Its very existence is owed to the railroad and today, if not for the tax-paying Wheaton-Dumont elevator facility, Tenney certainly would not be a formal municipality. Though there were settlers in the area prior to the railroad’s arrival, including my own ancestors, the railroad reached Tenney in 1885. The town itself, incorporated in 1902, was named after John Paige Tenney, a lumber company executive in the Twin Cities, who owned the town site and gave right-of-way to the railroad. The main line of the Soo Line Railroad entered the county from the east, with the first Wilkin County stop being Nashua. It then continued to Tenney, then out of the county and into Fairmount, North Dakota. For many, many years, the railroad was the lifeblood of Tenney, carrying its freight, livestock, provisions, mail, and people in and out of the area. Today, the railroad still represents the weakening heartbeat of Tenney.

Tenney was on the Soo Line, but the Soo was not the first railroad in Wilkin County. The first pieces of railroad track in the county were those of the Great Northern, in 1870 (then called the “Minnesota and Pacific”) in Campbell. In a two-year period of time between 1870 and 1872, Campbell was the site of an encampment of railroad workers. Stories of this encampment bring to mind the gold rush days of Colorado and points beyond. Tents of various sizes, shapes, and colors provided sleeping quarters for the laborers, often with campfires burning in front of many tents in the evening. Larger tents were used for the mess hall and for shelter for the horses and mules. Large piles of harnesses could be found piled up outside the horse tents.

The encampment, with very little to show in the area of organization, was nestled in the long, wavy grass alongside the Rabbit River, tents spread willy nilly, here and there. It housed nearly 200 men of multiple nationalities speaking many different languages. During this time, Campbell sometimes took on a testosterone-induced, raucous nature, particularly on pay day when the railroad workers had cash for drinking, womanizing, and gambling, topped off with more than a few fist fights. I noted in the Campbell History book that card sharks, whiskey vendors and dice wielders made their way to town on pay day and things got pretty wild.

After two years, the group moved on as the railroad moved on to Doran and then Breckenridge. The trip by rail, fueled by wood-burning engine from St. Paul to Breckenridge, took anywhere from one to two days in the beginning. At times the railroad would be shut down for as long as two or three weeks due to high water or a heavy winter snowstorm.

Many of you familiar with the Tenney area know the very unique site close to Tenney where the north-south and the east-west railroads cross, as well as highways east-west 55 and north-south 9 crossing at the same location. This site has been the cause of many accidents—rail and auto—through the years and is still a bit freaky to me every time I drive through that intersection.

Anyway, back to Matt. He and Gertie raised their family in the railroad depot for many years, until just prior to the birth of their daughter, Adeline. Their children were, in this order, Everett, Warren, Arnold, Gordon, Douglas, Russell, Adeline, and Lowell. Though you would have to be at least 61 years old to personally remember Matt, if you did remember him you would remember a gentle, soft-spoken man; a conscientious, steady worker, a guy very well-liked in Tenney. The account of his marriage in the newspaper referred to Matt as “the obliging and pleasing Soo agent at Tenney.” He was also quite hard of hearing. His wife and children were his pride and joy. According to grandson Kent, Matt was initially unable to pronounce the name of his only daughter, Adeline, so she became “La La.” Matt loved to garden, was a friend to many, and he was truly dedicated to his job. Even though the Kapitans did not have much, they had a very happy and satisfying life in Tenney. Adeline told me that Matt only took one vacation in his life, and that was a train trip with his son Arnold to Kansas to visit his family. Matt’s hearing deficit eventually caused him to have to retire earlier than he otherwise would have. He died in 1947 at the age of 70.

For those of you that arrived on the Tenney scene after 1947, you probably recall Blanche Byrne or Joe Doyle as Tenney’s depot agent. Memories of Tenney’s railroad----standing on the platform waiting for a relative to step off the train; running from the schoolyard to help unload freight in hopes of getting a nickel from storekeeper A.N.Larson; hearing the tap-tap-tap-click-click-click of the telegraph in the depot agent's office; accompanying a cattle shipment to the South St. Paul stockyards; getting a letter written quickly so that it would be ready for the 7 p.m. train to Breckenridge—all of these things were common occurrences in Tenney in the early years. If you have any Tenney railroad stories, please share them with me.

Birthday Book

I came upon some little treasures that I have been studying in detail since my mother handed them to me a month or two ago. They are the “birthday books” that belonged to my grandmother, Audrey Polifka Larson, and her sister, my great aunt, LaVanche Polifka Solvie Gill. Perhaps you or your mother or grandmother had such a book. These little books are about 3” x 4”, sometimes made of leather or faux leather, bound just as a larger book.

Birthday books were very popular at the beginning of the 20th century. On the cover of the three books that belonged to LaVanche and Audrey were the titles, “The Girls Birthday Book,” “My Friend Birthday Book,” and “Favorite Poets Birthday Book.” The books are divided into the months of the year, with a small space after each day of each month, in which friends, relatives, and dinner or house guests would sign their name and in most cases, the year they were born. Very often notes and dates were written in at some point afterward indicating perhaps a death date, or a married name added to a girl who was single at the time she signed. In many cases, the date that the person signed the book was also recorded.

At the beginning of each month there is often a poem by a famous poet, with proverbs, poems, or Bible verses scattered throughout the book. I love the little proverbs for which that era famous, whether those little sayings greeted the children as they came into the school room each day, or they found their way to the pages of these little birthday books. Here are a few examples:
· People who talk much say nothing.
· Let not your tongue cut your throat.
· Dry bread at home is better than roast meat abroad.
· A man without reason is out of season.
· The secret of success is constancy of purpose.
· A place for everything, and everything in its place.
· Little brooks make great rivers.
· Business may be troublesome, but idleness is pernicious.
· Muddles at home make husbands roam.
· One lie begets another.
· Four things that never return: the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity.
· An old fox is not caught in a trap.
· There is great distance between “said” and “done.”
· Glasses and lasses are brittle ware.
· Birds are entangled by their feet, women by their tongues :-)

I can remember very clearly these little books sitting in prominent places in both my grandmother’s and great aunt’s homes. In fact I, myself, signed these books in the January 27 spot. I had forgotten that, at some point in my teenage years, in loopy teenager handwriting, I had entered the name of my beloved big fat gray cat, “Benjamin Figaro Leaf (1972)” in the appropriate spot – April 20. I had later entered “77,” indicating the year that Benjamin went to kitty heaven. I can imagine my sweet Grandma Aud looking over my shoulder, or perhaps leafing through the book later, with an amused grin on her face realizing I had entered the family pet into her treasured birthday book. Grandma was no fan of pets of any sort, but as special as we were to her [and her to us], I know she didn’t mind and, in fact, probably got a charge out of it.

Though I don’t remember anything about the contents, I remember leafing through these little books as I grew up, looking for familiar names as only a person with my fixation on names and dates would enjoy. The fact that in LaVanche’s birthday book are also listed important family facts and dates, attests to the importance of her little birthday book. For example, she lists the names of her great grandparents, Anna and John Polifka (born in 1816 and 1809), the date they were married, and that the “came to America from River Rhine, Germany.” It is the type of information that one writes in important places, similar to what you might see in a Bible. Grandma Aud’s book lists, in the front, in her handwriting, her travels and the year she took those travels. She mentions a trip to Oregon in 1945 (no doubt to visit her sister, Myrtle), Montana in 1967, East Coast in 1971 (with our family; I remember it so well), a Ready reunion in Montana in 1979, etc. Clearly these birthday books were treasured by both of them.

What a thrill, now, to leaf through these books and see the handwritten signatures of so many of the people who I have gotten to know so well in the process of writing THE TENNEY QUILT. Mrs. Parks (Elizabeth), whom I learned was the “postmistress” of Tenney for a period of time, signed LaVanche’s book in beautiful writing, citing her birth year of 1864. Gertie Kapitan, one of my favorite Tenney women, though I never knew her personally, signed the book, as did several of the other women I highlighted in THE TENNEY QUILT: Linna Gordhamer, Marie Hadwick, Nellie Dalgarno Dopp, and others. I saw for, the first time in my memory, the signatures of my great grandparents, Helen and John P. Polifka. There is something about knowing that they had a pen in their hand and wrote the actual signatures that are in these books that is special to me. Yes, I am a sentimental, sappy fool, but what came to mind as I read these signatures, was a mental image of Lydia Kath running her fingers over the contours of the Tenney Quilt a month or so ago in Tenney, touching the embroidered signatures of her husband and other loved ones as she focused so intently. Such things have a way of transporting a person to another place and time.

I saw the Tenney names that have become so familiar; there were Jankes and Kuentzels. There were Waites and Hiatts and Gores and O’Laughlins. Who would have thought that seeing the name Ethel Roach would be such a kick? And there was Harry Pithey and Lois Wittman, who signed the book as a young, single woman, just as she was when she signed the Tenney Quilt. Jennie Waite, who appeared front and center on my favorite Tenney photo, appears, with her birth year, 1856, next to her signature. Myrtle Janke and Jack Richardson and Madge Dawson signed the birthday book. Jeanette Iler, my mother’s childhood friend, appears on the May 13th spot, along with Tenney farmer John (Jack) Glock. Lillie Scott, with 1878 next to her name, lived in the Tenney Church parsonage for a time, and signed Audrey’s birthday book, along with her twin offspring, Percy and Elsie. There are Vosses and Pitheys and Dopps.

What a treasure! I feel as though I know these people. Tenney has become very real throughout the process of writing the book and, even more so, through meeting and talking with so many of you who, like me, have a fond connection to Tenney. Keep in touch, and keep sharing those Tenney stories with me. I love to hear them.

Thanks for Coming!

Several of you have asked for a listing of those who attended our wonderful Tenney Get-Together a few weeks ago on May 10. Not everyone signed in, unfortunately, so I know that some names are missing. Also, I apologize in advance for any misspellings; some of the names in the guestbook were difficult to read.

Ahlsten, Douglas & Gail, Brian
Barnes, Jodi (Tracy)
Beadle, Rose Marie (Riess)
Bolin, Judy (Stumpf)
Brown, Judy (Bertsch)
Campbell, Gail (Roach, Kegley) & Katelyn
Cashman, Marilyn
Church, Lorraine
Cooper, Albert & Karen (Kath)
Earl, Mike & Melissa
Fenske, Diane (Roach)
Fischer, T.J.
Glasby, Shalette and Skylar Wehri
Glock, Charlie
Grant, Sherry (Hardie)
Guenther, Lori
Guenther, Oscar, Ashley & Gus
Guenther, Ray & Ann
Gunderson, Celene (Tracy)
Holtan, Barbara (Kapitan)
Janke, Rosemary
Juelich, Clarence
Kapitan, Claudia
Kapitan, Jim
Kapitan, Kent
Karch, Sara & Raea
Karlgaard, Mildred (Sprove)
Kath, Larry & Karen
Kath, Lydia (Mrs. Richard)
Kath, Pamela
Kowalzek, Echo (Andersen)
Krosch, Eldon
Kutzer, Clarence & Darlene (Thiel)
Kutzer, Linda
Lattimore, Candi (Clausen)
Lawrensy, Denise (Younger)
Leaf, Earl & Helen Jo (Larson)
Leaf, Jonathan & Cindy family
Lundeen, Dar & Betty (Janke)
Lyngaas, Mary
Manthie, Duane
McLaughlin, Mary Jean (Shaffer)
Nater, Marsha (Hardie)
Nisja, Beverly
Northridge, Benjamin
Northridge, Jared
Olen, Delores (Durner)
Olness, Carol
Paschko, Art
Polifka, Owen
Richer, Jane & Jill
Riess, Joyce (Durner)
Schroeder, Marilyn
Schwinn, Jean (Andersen)
Scott, Mr. & Mrs. Jim
Shafer, Sheila, Devin & Lexi
Streyffeler, Elaine (Manthie)
Swan, Dale & Sherry
Thompson, Myrtle (Kegley)
Tighe, Ben & Angie family
Tracy, Lois (Wittman)
Van Hovel, Troy & Annette
Wahl, Butch & Helen
Younger, Eileen (Funkhouser)

A Day To Remember

It is hard to know how to even begin to describe how it felt to be in Tenney last weekend (Saturday, May 10) for our “Tenney Gathering.” The weather could not have been more dreadful—high 30s and low 40s, driving rain, sleet, and wind. IN THE MONTH OF MAY, for heaven's sake!! My vision of a crowd of people sitting on lawn chairs on a sun-drenched spring day, or wandering along Tenney’s streets, wrestling up memories—well, that didn’t exactly happen. So—who would have thought that over 100 people would drive to Tenney on such a day, navigate the muddy, soggy streets, jump over one final moat to get to the church steps, then sit or stand and visit in an unheated old church—just to talk about Tenney’s days of old and the people that lived them?

Red, runny noses and frequent shivers notwithstanding, it was very clear from the smiles, the hugs, the clasp of hands that had not touched for years, that this was a good day. A good day in Tenney. The family names represented that day, names such as Kath, Durner, Scott, Waite, Polifka, Riess, Richardson, Janke, Roach, Wittman, Manthie, and many others, became so familiar to me as I did my research for THE TENNEY QUILT. All of these names are represented on the quilt, which was on display that day, with many descendents visibly moved by the sight of their mothers’, fathers’, and grandparents’ names. Though the quilt, at age 80, should not be handled, it was easy for me to allow these folks to touch the name of their relative, as if to hold that person in their hands for but a moment. I imagined it to be similar to the experience of standing before the Viet Nam Memorial in Washington DC, running one’s finger over the engraved name of a loved one.

The image you see in the above photo is one that I will never forget for as long as I live. This woman is Lydia Kath, who was married to Richard Kath and lived in the Tenney area. Lydia is 101 years old, and will turn 102 in July. At the time that her name was placed onto the quilt, she was a young woman of 21. Lydia and her nieces were the only people to show up in Alexandria, Minnesota, a month or two ago for a book signing that had been, unbeknownst to them, postponed due to a blizzard. Lydia had been determined to see the quilt, to meet me, and came 92 miles one direction in weather that kept most others, including me—the author!—home. That’s how much the Tenney Quilt meant to her.

I didn’t dare hope that Lydia would show up in Tenney last weekend, but I should have known she would. If a blizzard couldn’t keep her away, I suppose a little freezing rain and wind wouldn’t either. I brought Lydia’s spry little self, with the double-pierced ears, the red dyed hair, and the stylish warm-up suit, up to the front of the church where the quilt was displayed. I asked her if she would like to see her name on the quilt. She did, of course, so I showed it to her.

Next to Lydia’s own embroidered name was her husband Richard’s name, as well as other relatives, long since departed. Lydia studied it so very closely. She ran her hands through the soft contours of the quilt and her fingers over the stitches that spelled out her name and others. She was so lost in the experience that I know I could have done cartwheels down the church aisle or sung the national anthem at the top of my lungs and Lydia would not have noticed. I know at that moment that the Tenney Quilt had become a magic carpet for Lydia, transporting her to a time in Tenney long ago. The photo shows, to some degree, the intensity of her thoughts, but being right there to witness it was, as I previously mentioned, something I will never forget.

There are only about 10 people alive whose names appear on the quilt. Three of them were in Tenney last Saturday. Besides Lydia, the other two are Lois (Wittman) Tracy (to the left), who appears on the quilt as three-year-old “Lois Christine Wittman;” and Doris (Janke) Wawers (below), who appears on the quilt as “Doris LaVerne Janke,” and was just a baby the year the quilt was made. To meet, for the first time, these three women whose names I have seen so many times as I have studied the quilt, was touching beyond words.

Thanks to the current residents of Tenney for getting the church ready and for hosting this event. Special thanks also to Sherry Swan (Al Manthie’s granddaughter) for bringing lots of old Tenney records, photos and memorabilia, for all the folks who brought treats, and really, to everyone who came. Any personal benefit I have received from writing THE TENNEY QUILT has been outweighed a hundred times by the joy that I hear in people’s voices as they explain to me what the book has meant to them, or the joy in their faces as I see them connect with other people who share a common bond—a tiny little town called Tenney.

Andrew

The photo at the left shows a basketball team of five young Tenney boys—four of whom would experience an event a few years later that would change their lives forever. These guys are, from left to right, Orval Wittman, Ralph Larson, Andrew Larson, Paul Roser, and one of the Kapitan boys (Warren, I think?).

My uncles, Andrew and Ralph Larson, like their father, A.N. Larson (who ran the Larson Store in Tenney), were avid hunters and fishermen from a young age, as were many young men in Tenney, and eagerly looked forward to the fall pheasant hunting season each year. In October of 1931, pheasant hunting was on the minds of the first four young men you see lined up in this photo—Orval, Ralph, Andrew, and Paul. The boys were all 16 or 17 years old. One can imagine the male adolescent chatter flying throughout the vehicle as this foursome was embarking on a late afternoon/evening of hunting with their buddies. Ralph and Andrew were in the front seat, with Ralph, age 16, driving. Orval and Paul were in the backseat; Orval behind Ralph, and Paul behind Andrew.

At 3:00 in the afternoon, in their travel toward a hunting destination just south of Wheaton, the boys spotted some pheasants by the side of the road. Ralph pulled over and, in the excitement and commotion of the moment as they were preparing to hop out of the car, Paul’s loaded gun accidentally discharged from the back seat, firing through the passenger-side car seat and hitting Andrew in the back, just above the hip.

17-year-old Andrew died that night at 11:00.

During the time between the accident and his death, Andrew was awake and was talking about his disappointment that, due to this injury, he would be unable to play basketball that winter for the North Dakota State School of Science (Wahpeton) basketball team. You can see from the above photo that Andrew was long and lean and even at a young age had a basketball in his hand. He was apparently a gifted athlete and was a starter on his Elbow Lake High School basketball team.

Andrew’s death at age 17 is tragic, and the effect on his family and community magnified by the death of his young mother only two years prior. My grandfather A.N., Andrew’s father, had to feel like a beaten man. As I mention in my book, A.N. was a compassionate man and a man of principle. Shortly after Andrew’s death, A.N. went to Paul Roser, the young man whose gun had accidentally discharged, put his arm around Paul’s shoulder, and assured him that this was an accident, that he was forgiven, and there was no malice toward him. A.N. and Paul remained friends for the remainder of their lives, and Paul Roser served as a pall bearer at Grandpa A.N.’s funeral 36 years later.

I am struck by the innocence of this photo—five young boys just being small town boys, yet full of promise and hope, as are all young children. Andrew’s face reflects a confident but gentle boy who could probably have had the world by the tail had he been given the opportunity. His striking resemblance to my mother [his half-sister] is compelling to me. Who could anticipate, in looking at this photo, the events in Andrew's life that would take away the innocence and promise of his young life? In a few short years, Andrew at age 15 would experience the extended illness and loss of his mother, and then lose his own life a mere two years later.

I am tempted to focus on what could have been and an unfinished life when I look into Andrew’s face. Instead, I wrestle myself into focusing on a 17-year life full of friends and school and family and hunting and the simple joys of living in the only town he ever really knew—the little town of Tenney, Minnesota.