Community – Page 14 – Thoughts Towards a Better World

#963 – Dick Bernard: The First Sunday of Advent, 2014

November 30, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Family History, History, Minnesota, North Dakota, Peace & Justice, Quietings /by dickbernard

Today, at least for Roman Catholics, is the First Sunday of Advent. It will be noticed today at my Church, Basilica of St. Mary, Minneapolis.
As with most everything in our diverse society, there are many definitions of the meaning of this liturgical season, the four Sundays between now and Christmas Day, December 25. Here’s “Advent” as found in google entries.
I happen to be Catholic, actually quite active, I’d say. This would make me a subset of a subset of the American population.
In all ways, the U.S. is a diverse country. The Statistical Abstract of the United States, published by the Census Bureau, says about 80% of adult Americans describe themselves as “Christian”; 25% of this same population says they’re “Catholic”. (The data is here.)
Of course, if you’re a “boots on the ground” person, as I am, raw data like the above pretty quickly devolves. As the most appropriate mantra at Basilica of St. Mary in Minneapolis (my church) is stated every Sunday: “welcome, wherever you are on your faith journey….” The people in the pews know the truth of this phrase, and know that on every given Sunday, two-thirds of them are not even in the pews.
Regardless of specific belief, the vast majority of us, everywhere, are good people*.
I’m drawn to this topic a bit more than usual this weekend since I just returned from a visit to my last surviving Uncle, Vince, winding down his long life in a wonderful nursing home in a small North Dakota town.
Thanksgiving Day I decided to bring to him, for hanging in his room, the below holy family** (which had not yet been hung, and appears sideways, as it appeared in his room, prior to hanging.)
(click to enlarge)

Nov. 27, 2014

For many years this image hung in the family farm home, and Vince seemed glad to see it come to visit. I asked him how old it was, and he said it was his mothers (my grandmothers) favorite, and it was probably older than he, in other words pre-dating 1925.
When next I visit, I hope to see it hanging on the wall he faces each day, and as such things go, it will likely bring back memories, and perhaps other emotions as well. Images tend to do this.
Of course, even in the religious milieu, an event like Advent is complicated. It is observed (including not being observed at all) in various ways even by people within the Catholic Church. A constructive observance, in my opinion, is to attempt to use the next 25 days to daily reflect on something or other in my own life. A nominally Catholic but mostly inspirational book of Daily Reflections given to me years ago by my friend Les Corey comes immediately to mind**; and very likely I can “tie in” Uncle Vince through letters this month. (It helps me to make a public declaration of intention on these things – a little more likely that I’ll follow through!)
Of course, there is, always, lots of side-chatter in this country at this season: “Black Friday” rolled out two days ago. We are a financial “bottom line” nation, I guess. Profits trump most anything else.
But, be that as it may, perhaps my essential message is that the next few weeks can be helpful simply for quieting ones-self and reflecting on a more simple way of being, such as greeted that icon when it was first hung in that simple North Dakota farm home perhaps even more than 100 years ago.
Have a good Advent.
* – A few hours ago, we experienced a good positive start to Advent. After a party for three of our grandkids who have November birthdays, we all went to a Minnesota based project called Feed My Starving Children where, along with 115 others adults and children, we filled food packets whose ultimate destination is Liberia. It was our first time participating with this activity, and it was a very positive activity. Hard work, but a great family activity. Check it, or something similar, out. Special thanks to one of the birthday kids, 8-year old Lucy, who apparently suggested the activity.

Nov. 29, 2014, Addy, Lucy, Kelly

** – Of course, I don’t know the exact origin of the print which so captured Grandma. Almost certainly the real holy family of Bible days was not European white, as I am, and she was; rather, most likely, middle eastern in ethnicity and appearance.
*** – The book I’ve dusted off for the next weeks: All Saints, Daily Reflections on Saints, Prophets, and Witnesses for our Time by Robert Ellsberg.

#961 – Dick Bernard: Ferguson MO. A Victim Impact Statement

November 25, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Guns, History, Minnesota, Peace & Justice, War /by dickbernard

Beginning last evening there’s been plenty of news about Officer Darren Wilson, un-armed victim Michael Brown and Ferguson MO. There’ll be a great deal more.
The news will be as it is.
Some thoughts from my little corner….
Yesterday afternoon I met a guy at a local restaurant I frequent. He was a retired police Lieutenant. We were introduced by a mutual friend, Mary, who’s a grandma and a waitress par excellence.
As he was leaving, we compared notes a bit: he’s retired 16 years from an area Police Force, me, 14 from teacher union work. I gave him my card with my blog address, and told him I’d written about the tragic death of policeman Shawn Patrick in neighboring Mendota Heights some months ago. Maybe he checked it out.
Of course, very shortly thereafter Mendota Heights came Ferguson MO, which I also wrote about here.
The story about the implications of Ferguson is just beginning.
A few thoughts about what I’ll call “A Victim Impact Statement”.
When the Grand Jury deliberated, one witness obviously missing was Michael Brown, deceased. He was not available for questioning. He was dead.
He publicly lives on in (it seems) in a photograph, and a tiny piece of stupid kid action in a convenience store, caught on surveillance camera. There’s nothing he wrote about what happened that afternoon; there’s nothing he’s said.
He has no voice.
Officer Darren Wilson, on the other hand has a voice. He could tell his own story to people who mattered. And in the halls of justice he has apparently been cleared, according to the laws of the state of Missouri.
But Wilson’s own life will never be the same again. He is a victim as certainly as Wilson was.
He’s left the force, apparently, and after a certain period of great public attention, he will disappear into the anonymous world of one-time celebrities. His enduring fame will be as the cop who shot the unarmed kid on the streets of Ferguson MO. People will forget the date and the circumstances and the arguments will be whether or not he deserved his fate.
There are other victims too: Brown’s parents; Wilson’s family; the entire community…on and on. This espisode only began when the gunshots fell silent. There are many victim statements being written.
Shortly, I’ll head to my barber who is retired, works from his home, was a Marine in Vietnam, has a son who’s a policeman, and I’ll bring up the topic. We will have an interesting few minutes together today. We are, and will remain, very good friends. We might disagree.
For me, the un-indicted co-conspirator in this and in so many other cases will be weaponry – a gun. Surely it was used legally by an officer of the law. But without it, I wouldn’t be writing this piece. Michael Brown wouldn’t be dead.
Darren Wilson has killed a young man in circumstances none of us will never know for sure.
We can all be righteous in our judgments, but the fact remains: there are at least two victims in this scenario, a young cop and a young kid.
Will we learn anything?
Happy Thanksgiving.
POSTNOTE: The visit to the barber began with his bringing up the situation in Ferguson: I didn’t have to raise the topic. The topic dominated our minutes together. We had a very civil conversation.
There was talk about “anarchists” and the 2008 Republican Convention security in St. Paul. St. Paul was an armed camp then. At the time, his barber shop was within blocks of possible violence. He worried. I was in a protest march: I saw the police on rooftops in over-the-top battle gear. We were peaceful – no anarchists around me.
My barber was a Marine in Vietnam. In the course of conversation he brought up the battle of Chu Lai, of which he was a part, near 50 years ago. He remembered the shooting, particularly he and his buddy shooting at two people in pajama like garb running away. One fell dead. Afterwards they went to check. The victim was a very young girl. Neither of them has ever forgot what they saw that day in battle.
We wished each other a Happy Thanksgiving, and I was on my way.
COMMENTS:
from Flo, Nov 25: Regarding your blog post. I think of the goal of Restorative Justice, recognizing that there’s a perpetrator, victim, and a community, including the families, for whom the need for justice needs to be addressed. For sure, there is no peace reigning in communities of color, anywhere, at this time. White people are further arming themselves against their perceived enemies, and the war goes on. Here is a piece that was just sent out by our UMC Bishop Ough for your consideration: “Do justice Special message from Bishop Ough following grand jury ruling in Ferguson”
from Carol, Nov 25: It didn’t take long to find this online, altho’ it was long ago. I remember being just stunned by the grand jury decision. These kids were running away from the police officer through an orchard, and he shot once. The bullet went through the back of both boys, killing them both. The officer said he thought they were adults, as “Hmong are small people” (I guess it’s OK to shoot adults in the back). This crap didn’t just start with Ferguson.
****
On Friday, November 19, the US District Court approved dispersal of $200,000 for the families of two Hmong teenagers that an Inver Grove Heights Police Officer Kenneth Murphy shot and killed in 1989, Inver Grove Heights Attorney Pete Regnier told ASIAN PAGES. The court determined this settlement last March, Regnier said.
… 13-year-old Ba See Lor, who was killed in the Inver Grove Heights case. Also shot and killed in Inver Grove Heights in 1989 was 13-year-old Thai Yang…
In 1990, a Dakota County Grand Jury issued a no indictment decision for the deaths in Inver Grove Heights, avoiding charges against Officer Murphy. After a police chase, the boys left their stolen car and ran across a field, but one boy carried a screwdriver that Officer Murphy thought was a gun.
from Dick, postnote: It happened, shortly after Ferguson erupted into the national news in August, that I was driving down a city street in Woodbury and for no apparent reason a policeman pulled me over. He approached the car, and was very polite, and told me I had not signalled my turn. This surprised me. I always signal my turn (but this time I had forgotten). He asked to see my insurance papers, and I looked where they always are kept, in the glove box. But they weren’t there. Now I was rattled.
There was no ticket, not even a warning, and the officer was very pleasant (such as these things go), and I was on my way. But the whole episode shook me up. This was not part of my daily return.
A little later I took out my wallet, and there was the insurance certificate. I had taken it out when I rented a truck to help a friend move. I wrote a note to the officer.
The entire episode reminded me that encounters between police and civilians are never benign, regardless of guilt or innocence. The word to the police has to be, it’s all about relationship. If the relationship comes to be based in power, and in the case of Michael Brown, armed power, all is lost. In my opinion, The Gun is a very major part of this issue. We need to attend to the issue of Guns in our society, regardless of who carries them or for what reason.

#960 – Dick Bernard: A Very Good Morning at S.P.I.F.F.

November 23, 2014/2 Comments/in Community, Education, Minnesota /by dickbernard

Last Friday we volunteered for one of those “you’ll have to guess” kinds of assignments. Daughter Joni, Principal at Somerset Elementary in Mendota Heights, asked if we’d be interested in participating in something called “SPIFF” with second graders at the school.
“Sure. Why not?” And we headed to an uncertain assignment.
We signed in, and come 9 a.m. second grade teacher Mr. Messicci, originator of SPIFF 25 years ago, began the process of “matching pals”, each of we older folks matched with one of 73 second graders at the school.
A very polite young man, Andrew, was matched with me. Andrew was dressed up in vest and tie and blue shirt. Later we agreed we liked the color blue, and vegetables and so on…. To my knowledge, the morning started with all of us as strangers to each other. We weren’t strangers for long. One elder, one youngster.
It was the beginning of a most wonderful two hours, which opened with the Pledge of Allegiance (my Andrew was one of the six students chosen to bring the American flags in procession to the front of the room), then we all sang “What a Wonderful World”, and later many other fun songs.
Group program over, we were all escorted to our Pals classroom, and spent another hour doing activities together. Each child had a variety of activities from which to choose. Andrew and I did some Tic Tac Toe, some reading, some mazes, etc. The time flew by. We ended with cookies and juice.
The students were obviously very well prepared by the three classroom teachers in charge. Of course, there is a 25 year old track record, but each year it is a new event for new participants.
The tone was set by the text on the program booklet we all received (below).

Inside was a brief explanation of the program:
“The best classroom in the world is at
the feet of an elderly person.” Andy Rooney
We believe there is a great value for young people in having an older person’s outlook, wisdom, concern, and friendship. Older adults also benefit by rediscovering the curiosity and enthusiasm fo young people and seeing first-hand what’s happening in education today.
The goal of The S.P.I.F.F. Society is to promote intergenerational relationships and provide both students and older adults with rich, long-lasting experiences. We hope to dispel stereotypes, increase understanding, share perspectives, and foster friendships.
We gratefully acknowledge: 3M C.A.R.E.S., St. Stephen’s Church, DARTS, great older adults, and wonderful students.
Mrs. Kirchenwitz, Mr. Messicci, Mrs. Rall, Somerset Second Grade Teachers.”
We “are asked to print or type at least one letter or postcard” to our pal. (Second grade is early in the reading careers of most students.) In turn, our pal “will write three letters” to us “from November through May.”
Our assignments are not yet finished: One day in December we’ll do Caroling with the kids, and once each month through the rest of the year there will be an hour of some specific fun activity.
We’re glad we volunteered.
Perhaps this is an idea to be shared with your local school.
COMMENT:
from Donna: This sounds like a great program. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in preparing for the next test that we forget to do meaningful education for life. Would love to know more about it.

#955 – Dick Bernard: The St. John's Bible at the Basilica of St. Mary, Minneapolis MN

November 14, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, History, Minnesota, Quietings /by dickbernard

The “rack card” at the Basilica display of the St. John’s Bible can be seen here: St Johns Bible rack card001
The last two weeks I had noticed portions of the magnificent St. John’s Bible on display at my home Church, the Basilica of St. Mary in Minneapolis MN.
A flier at the back of the Church attracted my attention to a Reception and Presentation Thursday evening Nov. 13. The flier: “The Saint John’s Bible is the first handwritten, illuminated Bible commissioned by a Benedictine Abbey in over 500 years. Its hand written lettering and stunning artworks truly present the Word of God in an engaging and inspirational way. Discover the beauty and splendor of the St. Johns’ Bible at a captivating and lively presentation which shares the story of this once in a millennium undertaking…”
Only a few of us came to the program last night. It was our gain to have almost a private program; all I can do is encourage your taking the time to view several portions of the Bible at the Basilica of St. Mary undercroft and Church proper during usual church hours through November 30.
Tim Ternes, Director of The St. John’s Bible at the Hill Museum and Manuscript Library at St. John’s University, presented a fascinating program. I asked permission to take snapshots, all related to the St. John’s Bible Project. The link to much information about the project, which went from 1995-2011, can be accessed here.
Below are a few of my snapshots from Nov. 13.
But make it a point to actually see the fascinating display at the Basilica before it ends November 30. Information here.
(click to enlarge all photos)

Tim Ternes (at left) Nov. 13, 2014

The creation story. One of the many magnificent works of art within the St. John’s Bible (which is, in itself, a magnificent work of the calligrapher’s art.)

In keeping with ancient tradition, the book is filled with art of local flora and fauna from, in this case, central Minnesota.

Even calligraphers make mistakes. Here is one of a few examples in the massive book where an entire line was missed. Rather than redo the entire page, the calligrapher constructs a sometimes whimsical insertion, such as this one.

I am not an expert in art. As I am fond of noting, in college I waited to the last minute to take the required class, Art Appreciation, and then got a “D” in it. I had a similar experience with Music Appreciation. But time changes things, and now I love both.
I came to “class” last night with only the vaguest understandings about calligraphy. I left with a great appreciation for the skill and even humor of calligraphers, and the awesome project that is the St. John’s Bible.
Do see the exhibit if you have the opportunity. It has been to many states, with more to come. The next exhibition is Madison Wisconsin beginning December 19, 2014.
According to Mr. Ternes, here are the scheduled talks in Madison:
January 19, 2015 at 7:00 p.m. at Our Lady Queen of Peace Catholic Church, 401 S. Owen Drive, Madison, WI
Thursday, January 22, 5:30–8:30 p.m. “From Inspiration to Illumination: An Introduction to The Saint John’s Bible.” Tim Ternes, Director, The Saint John’s Bible. 5:30 p.m., illustrated presentation. 7 p.m., group discussion. 8 p.m., exhibition walk through with question-and-answer. Room L160, Elvehjem Building.

#954 – Dick Bernard: Armistice Day 2014

November 11, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, History, Minnesota, Peace & Justice, War /by dickbernard

(click to enlarge photos)

The Armistice Day Bells, St. Paul MN Nov. 11, 2014

This morning I attended the annual Vets for Peace observance of Armistice Day at the USS Ward monument on the Minnesota State Capitol grounds.
It was a bone-chilling day with a numbing wind, and on the way home I stopped at my favorite restaurant for a cup of coffee and a day old cookie (cheapskate that I am). Going to pay my tab I saw that the restaurant, in honor of Veterans Day, would give veterans for 50% of ordinary price, but you had to show evidence of service. Darn. Here I’d not only had a cheap meal, but my dog tags were at home….
Armistice Day? Veterans Day? Remembrance Day? They all commemorate the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, when WWI, the War to end all Wars, ended.
It is no accident that the Vets for Peace, mostly vets of the Vietnam era forward, call their observance “Armistice Day”, while the official observance is called “Veterans Day”. The link hidden behind the words above gives the story of when the U.S. dropped “Armistice” in favor of “Veteran”. It was not a subtle change.
Our outdoor observance attracted about 30 of us today, less than usual, in substantial part due to the weather. On the other hand, this was a very good crowd especially given the weather.
But the gathering was its usual inspiring self, ending with an assortment of bells being rung 11 times to remember the 11th, 11th, 11th of the year 1918.
A moving rendition of the World War I poem “In Flanders Field” was offered by one of those in attendance.

“In Flanders Field the Poppies Grow….” Nov. 11, 2014 St. Paul MN

One of the speakers announced the death, yesterday, of a young man, Tomas Young, 34, who I had never heard of. I read about him when I returned home, and this link includes a short article and a 48 minute video well worth taking the time to read and watch.
Mr. Young, who enlisted in the patriotic wake of 9-11-01 to go fight the “evil doers” in Afghanistan, ended up in Iraq and was near fatally wounded on his fourth day in combat there. The video continues the story.
Today I remembered the first Armistice Day observance I attended here. It was Nov. 11 of 2002, out at Ft. Snelling. I remember it particularly because a year earlier, Nov. 11, 2001, we were at Gatwick Airport in suburban London, about to head home after a vacation in London. At 11 a.m. on that day the public address announcer at Gatwick asked for two minutes of silence – of remembrance – for those who gave their lives.
We could hear a pin drop, literally. Not even a baby cried. I reported that at Ft. Snelling a year later to an attentive group of people who were all strangers to me.
The English take this day of peace seriously.
Today, those of us who served and got lucky and didn’t have to deal with the messiness aftermath of war, personally, can cash in on the sacrifices of others in our seeming endless wars. But there are huge numbers of “walking wounded”, homeless, etc. One of them, Tomas Young, died young yesterday.
Vets for Peace looks for some other way to resolve conflict than rushing into combat. Great numbers of us have been there, done that….
I end this column with the song that we started with this morning: an anthem of peace, sung here by John Denver, “Last night I had the strangest dream”.

“Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream….” Nov. 11, 2014, St. Paul MN led by Sister Bridget McDonald CSJ

#953 – Wayne: A bit of nostalgia remembering the early 1940s.

November 10, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Family History, History, Minnesota, Quietings /by dickbernard

This summer my friend, Kathy Garvey, gave me a photo and fascinating accompanying story, both of which speak for themselves and follow, below. I have purposely not edited Wayne’s words, as they are written spontaneously, and more interesting. “Dad” is Kathy’s Grandpa, and the other players are his wife and kids. Wayne writes extemporaneously the recollections about the family in the early 1940s. Shakopee is a southwest suburb of Minneapolis MN, on the Minnesota River. The other places mentioned are south suburban Minneapolis and St. Paul.
(click to enlarge)

1942, Shakopee MN

“Thank you for the picture of Dad at our filling station at 139 Dakota Street in Shakopee in 1942 at the age of 68. I had never seen this picture. The pumps were not electrified. The customer stated how many gallons wanted and you used the hand pump to reach that level in the glass bowl, then gravity hosed it to the car. Plastic had not been invented and no metal quart cans of oil as aluminum was needed for building planes and tanks. You filled quart bottles from a drum as needed. At age 11 I waited on customers as well. Station was closed about a year later as it was a poor location and gas being rationed the average the average person only had stamps for three gallons per week. Margaret was at the Cargill shipyard and received extra stamps due to her vital work [nursing]. Cars of the day were difficult to start in cold weather so she had an extra battery installed under the hood of her 1939 Pontiac coupe.
In 1939 Dad’s legs were bothering after years of following a team of horses and a plow thru the fields so it was decided that Elmer and Irene would take over the farm at the time of their marriage and we would move to Shakopee to a house acquired thru a tax sale. Rita and I thought we were in heaven being only two blocks from St. Mary’s school, one block from the bakery and two blocks from downtown. There was no central plumbing or heat so Dad partitioned off part of the very large kitchen for a bathroom including a tub. After years of an outdoor toilet and Saturday night baths in a washtub behind the kitchen stove this was a real luxury. A furnace was ordered from Montgomery Ward in St. Paul and an installer came by train to put in and stayed with us for two days as he did not have a car. I should add that we were only two blocks from the first indoor movie that we had ever seen.
Farmers could not join the social security program in those days so we had no real source of income. We fixed up and painted a house acquired thru tax sale and rent from this helped. A few summers Dad worked for the State of Minnesota planting trees but he could not stand the hot weather. During the winter he liked to attend court trials and was always hopeful they would need a juror for the five dollars per day pay which could probably equate to eighty dollars today.
In 1941 he acquired a large stucco home in rundown condition which needed to be razed thru tax sale for twenty-five dollars. Rita and I spent many hours there stripping plaster and nails from the wall laths so they could be used in the new house on 139 Dakota Street. With the help of a retired carpenter for framing Dad did most of the building by himself. On the afternoon of December 7, 1941, he and I were working there when Rita hurried to tell us of the attack on Pearl Harbor. We moved to that house in 1942. Later he would build two other houses on speculation, one on East first street and another near the women’s reformatory.
During the war mother and other ladies would gather at the reformatory to cut sterile bed sheet into thin strips and roll them to be used treating the wounded soldiers in Europe. Also since we lived near the railroad tracks hoboes riding the trains would often come to the door asking to work for food. She gave them sandwiches and sent them on their way.
In the early days the Milwaukee railroad had a daily freight train with a passenger car on the end between Farmington, Lakeview, Prior Lake, Shakopee and Chaska, returning that afternoon. There was a siding in Credit River about one mile from our church. This would not happen today but at the time trucks to carry goods to the Twin Cities were not very reliable so farmers could use this siding to ship crops to market. Every fall Dad would contract to sell a load of grain, and each winter a load of cordwood. On the appointed day Mary, Margaret and Helen would go to the siding and flag the train down and instruct the trainmen as to placing an empty boxcar. Elmer would stand on the hill behind our house and listen for the whistle of the steam engine approaching the grade crossing. Then if he heard the engine starting up several minutes later he and Dad would hitch teams of horses to the already loaded wagons. The girls would wait at the siding and help load the boxcars which are huge in size and required many wagon loads to fill. Two days later they would again flag down the train to transport the car. Dad, Elmer and at times a hired hand would spend much of the winter cutting wood as there was no fieldwork at that time of the year.
Helen related that every second day mother would bake 13 loaves of bread and two tins of muffins. When a hog was butchered she would cook and can the meat in mason jars. The pork was put in huge crocks with a layer of salt between each.
I once asked Margaret to write some family history. She replied in part “we were so lucky to have such good, hardworking parents who did not smoke, drink, curse or gamble”. How true.”
Wayne, July 9, 2014

#948 – Dick Bernard: North Dakota's 125th Birthday; remembering a farm as part of that history

November 2, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Family History, History, North Dakota, Quietings /by dickbernard

Today, November 2, 2014, is the 125th anniversary of the admission of the State of North Dakota to the United States of America.
I previously wrote about the history of this event, and the relation of my Grandparents Busch farm to that history on October 1. You can read that here, with numerous links.
The genesis for todays post came early Friday morning, in the hall between the North Dakota Nursing Home where my Uncle lives; and the Assisted Living facility where he lived until a year ago. I was walking down this hall and saw this photograph on the wall. I had seen it before, but this time it spoke to me in a new and deeper way. It was my Uncles farm, and he is the last of nine members of the family who called it home. I “borrowed” the photo and brought it home so I could scan it for posterity. The photo was taken, I learned, in the winter of 1992, hung in the hallway by someone I don’t know. Below is a marked version of it.
(click to enlarge)

The Busch farm, Henrietta Township ND, winter of 1992.

Every one of us have our own stories about places familiar to us. Recently I had occasion to revisit Eric Sevaried’s 1956 classic story in Colliers magazine: “You can go home again”, about the always real and imaginary relationship between place, our past and the present.
For Eric Sevaried, the place of his childhood was Velva ND. We lived in Karlsruhe, not far from Velva, in 1951-53, just three years before he came home again.
Memories.
Then there’s the Busch farm, above pictured:
Grandma and Grandpa Busch, Rosa Berning and Ferdinand Busch, ages 21 and 25, came to the little knoll, the farmstead for their little piece of heaven, as winter ended in 1905. North Dakota was bustling, not yet a teenager, 15 years old. Like a teen, it was growing fast, full of dreams and dilemmas, perhaps like todays western ND oil patch. The future was not yet known, the good times or the very bad, like the death of a child on the farm; or the Great Depression of the 1930s.
Theirs was virgin land, and the new house they soon built overlooked their surrounding acres. There was nary a tree in sight, in any direction.
To the northeast (upper right on the photo), about four miles distance down the hill in the James River Valley lay the older town of Grand Rapids. Within eyeshot, less than five miles to the southwest, was what would soon officially be the town of Berlin.
Grandpa’s Dad, my great-grandfather Wilhelm Busch, had purchased the farm for his son from the owner of the property, the father of later U.S. Senator Milton R. Young. Most likely they were steered to this land by Grandpa’s uncle, B. H. Busch of Dubuque, a budding successful land entrepreneur. They would be followed by other Buschs and Bernings, as Leonard, Lena, Christina, August. August and Christina Berning took up the neighboring farm to the SE about a year later, and farmed there for many years. Leonard and his wife came to Adrian for a few years; Lena married Art Parker, and before they returned to Dubuque, they were early caretakers at the Grand Rapids Park, the first residents of what we all know as the caretakers house.
The Busch house (marked “A” on the photo), initially was simply the standard two story prairie box. The kitchen was initially detached from the house on the west side; later added to the east side of the house; later an addition was built on the west side. In this house were born nine children; all but one lived to adulthood there. Rural telephone service came to this house in 1912, about the time Verena, the third child, was born in 1912. Ferdinand was right in the thick of things with Lakeview rural telephone from the beginning; Vincent did lots of work on rural telephone issues. Verena died of illness at 15, in 1927.
The Buschs, along with many others in the area, founded St. Johns Catholic Church in Berlin in 1915.
Vincent and Edith, brother and sister, never married, born 1925 and 1920 respectively, both lived on the farm until health issues led to a move to town in 2006.
Grandpa died in the old farm house, in 1967. Grandma was said to be the first person to die in what is now St. Rose Care Center in August, 1972. The torch was passed.
Another original building, which still survives at the farmstead, barely, is the granary labeled as “C” on the photo. The first barn was approximately at the letter “D”; another building, which I knew as the chicken coop, was later replaced by the metal shed labeled “G”. A new barn was built at “E” in 1916 for some unrecounted reason. In 1949, the roof blew off this barn and was replaced by the new hand-made roof, which the local Catholic Priest, Fr. Duda, himself an expert carpenter, declared wouldn’t last. That roof is what presently keeps the barn below it from collapsing. Early on, my Dad participated in the reconstruction; Uncle Vince did a huge amount of the work, including the shingling.
In 1957, Grandpa bought the old depot in Berlin and moved the freight house and the depot agents portion of the depot to the farm. They are F1 and F2 on the photo. F2 collapsed about 2006. F1 is at the end of its life.
In 1992, Vincent bought a new house, “B”, which they planted on what all of us descendants knew as the front lawn, a few feet from the old house, which remained there until we took it down in 2000. Most every gathering at the farm ended with a group picture on the same portion of lawn which is now occupied by the new house, presently being renovated.
There has been, now, 109 years of life on this farmstead, though at the moment no one lives on the property (soon to change). The farm is no more or less typical than any farm or town neighborhood anywhere. It is a place full of tradition and memory, especially for this grandson of the place.
There are endless memories in these few acres, as there are in every farmstead; in every block, in every town and city, everywhere.
There was Grandpa’s hired man, way back, who likely slept in the granary. One year, he didn’t come back, killed in WWI. George Busch was a naval officer in WWII; youngest brother Art, went in the Army at the end of the War; Vince stayed home to do the necessary farming. Music was a constant in the house, and probably elsewhere, all “homemade” music, sung and played by the inhabitants….

Busch farm harvest time 1907,. Rosa Busch holds her daughter Lucina, Others in photo include Ferd, behind the grain shock; Rosa’s sister, Lena, and Ferds father Wilhelm, and young brother William Busch. It is unknown who was unloading the grain in background. Possibly, it was Ferds brother, Leonard, who also farmed for a time in ND.

What are your memories, about your places?
Happy Birthday, North Dakota.
More about the Busch farm here.

#944 – Dick Bernard: Rightsizing.

October 18, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Environment, Family History, Minnesota, Nature, North Dakota /by dickbernard

This past week was a phenomenal early fall day in our area, easily matching the postcard vistas featured for Maine on the evening news. A couple of days ago, I took this snapshot along my walking route: just some brush along the shore of a storm drainage pond. Whatever the source, it’s a nice pic, and I invite you to click on it to enlarge.
(click to enlarge all photos)

October 16, 2014, Woodbury MN

The photo doesn’t match at all the title of this post, nor the content to follow, except that this kind of scene would have been seen by my parents and grandparents and all generations before in their times in this part of the world. The only difference is that we can now take photographs of them, and even amateurs like myself can do an okay job with our equipment (mine a Samsung).
This post was, rather, spurred on by a headline I saw in the Business section of the Wednesday Minneapolis Star Tribune: “Earlier Black Friday spreading” (Oct 15, 2014). Shortly, the “Christmas” music will become a constant at my coffee shop, and the “shop till you drop” drumbeat will begin, to buy more than you need, with money you may not have, to give to someone who may not want the gift given. I suspect there are plenty who will be just as happy when this “joyous” season passes, as will be the merchants…and churches…for whom this two months or so is a major generator of money in the till.
There is no “Christ in Christmas” here in our country, at least not publicly, or it has to wrestle in to get any genuine attention.
This summer I’ve had much more than a normal opportunity to reflect on how material goods diminish in value (and interest) as the twilight of life comes.
We’ve spent the summer dealing with the treasures of a 109 year old farm in North Dakota, where everything had a use, or future use. My Uncle and Aunt kept everything.
Leaving aside assorted large goods, like an old farmers dining room table, the first cut of the treasures in the house and farmyard occupies a small portion of storage. There are really valuable things to me, an historian, like photos and books, but the essence of the residue shows in this picture from inside my garage, taken this week.

October 16, 2014

I do not worry about these boxes being stolen. A self-respecting thief might ask “why did they keep THAT?” But I certainly won’t fault my Aunt and Uncle. They were being prudent stewards of what they were given, even if most of it had no earthly use for them, or anyone who follows.
I retired fourteen years ago, and in the same year moved from one suburb to another.
When I left my last work career of 27 years, I took home two boxes. The one I use quite often is pictured below. The second I’ve never opened and thus should be sent for recycling.
The ten years of living in a condo yields this box of “knick knacks” (also pictured). It hasn’t been opened since I moved, and likely won’t be until someone goes through my stuff and asks “why in the world did he keep THAT?
I could show my Dad’s two boxes, same story.
You get the point, I think.
Why not give more attention to downsizing, than getting more and more? Profits are okay, but there can be other priorities as well.

Oct 10, 2014

October 10, 2014, in a suburban garage.

October 10, 2014, Woodbury MN

#942 – Dick Bernard: Another delightful night at the Minnesota Orchestra.

October 13, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Minnesota, Quietings /by dickbernard

We went to our subscription season opener on Saturday evening, and it was, as always, a delightful experience.
Andrew Litton conducted a program of Richard Strauss: Don Quixote: Fantastic Variations on a Theme of Knightly Character; Salome’s Dance (Dance of the Seven Veils); Suite from Der Rosenkavalier.
It was a marvelous, fun program.
Through the program I kept thinking of a bookend someone gave me once, that sort of reminds me of Don Quixote, for some odd reason. Here it is (yes, it badly needs a dusting):

We’ve now been to several performances of the Minnesota Orchestra post-lockout (the lockout began two years ago, September 30, 2012, and ended in early February, 2014.) We’re glad to be back, and the people we see seem to be so as well.
Lurking not far in the background, reasonably, is the long impasse. But we’re moving on, it seems.
These days, I have begun to make sure I look at every page of the program booklet, just to make sure I don’t miss anything.
In Saturdays Showcase, for Sep-Nov, 2014, came a most interesting article, “a continuum of contributions”. You can read it here: MN Orchestra Oct 2014001. It speaks for itself.
Doubtless much effort and edit and review and revision went into the article. One can look for what is said, and what isn’t, and in what order of emphasis (which is as meaningfilled as the text itself)
I felt it a reasonable representation of the current reality.
One wonders, however, how the gap between the $10 million anonymous donor, and the equally anonymous $1 donor, will be bridged.
Money talks, the more money, the more the listening.
But the small folks are now, as before “the franchise” that is the Minnesota Orchestra. None of these folks are on anyone’s address book, but in the long run they will make all the difference.
As for us, we’re glad we’re back, and looking forward to a great season ahead. Yes, I’m a Guarantor (I think about $500 worth over my career). Nonetheless, we’re invited to a special performance led by Osmo Vanska next weekend. Quite likely we’ll go….
Nice touch.

#936 – Dick Bernard: A Walk in the Park; a Sense of Community.

September 15, 2014/0 Comments/in Community /by dickbernard

The two ladies saw me coming, and knew what to expect. I had come armed, with my camera.
My target;
(click to enlarge)

Sep. 13, 2014, Woodbury MN

Several successive Saturday mornings I’d seen this pooch in a stroller. Fourteen years of walking in this park, and I hadn’t seen a pooch so royally treated. This was a dog who had it made. Why walk when you can ride? Legitimate question. The lady said her husband was initially embarrassed to explain to others why the dog got a free ride, but he got over it!
So it goes on my near daily walks in our community park.
I’ve done near 10,000 miles of walking over those fourteen years. My knees are beginning to suggest that maybe I should think of cutting back, but it will be a hard sell: the walk is my addiction.
In a sense, this park is its own community.
I’ve written of it a couple of times in this space: The Can Lady remains a good friend; the guy who taught me by his crisis to bring along my cell phone on every walk survived.
Just this morning I came across a lady walking her dog (or is it the dog walking her? The four-legged one is usually the boss.) The sprinklers were on in the park, and it was irritating her. She’d lived in this area since 1956, and she felt it was a waste of resources and money to water the grass in a park.
I agreed.
We went our separate ways, but then I decided to give her a little advice: how about writing the mayor and council of Woodbury to express your complaint, I said. Maybe she will. Maybe I should, myself. The watering system is really unnecessary.
It reminded me of another political moment in this park, some years ago. Another lady on the trail asked me to join in petitioning the city to not allow a mountain biking trail that was proposed for the woods abutting the walk way.
It didn’t seem to be a problem, so I declined. But I admired her for coming forward with the suggestion.
The bike trail was built, and during nice weather it is well used, and the mountain bikes don’t interfere with we pedestrians.
It is a cooperative venture – those who use the bikeway help maintain it. An organization called MORC was apparently instrumental in its coming into existence.

Bike Crossing Aug 31, 2014

The bike trail.

Of course, all is never quite so simple.
About a year after the lady had invited me to petition the city about the bike path, I was at a community conversation on taxes. We were divided into table groups, and a bunch of anti-tax guys were at the same table as I was.
A couple of them were lambasting the city for spending money on a new Sports Center, and I had defended the project by saying some of my grand kids played baseball there. I didn’t benefit directly, but the park was a benefit to the greater community.
One of the young guys at the table, of the anti-tax group, started to think a bit, mentioning that he was part of the group that had lobbied the city to allow and participate in the building of the bike trail in the park.
It seemed, at that moment, that he had a new insight: that there are ways in which communities cooperate with each other, even when individuals have no direct interest in a particular venture or activity.
Of course, other activities go on in the park and along the trail. This summer for some days a crew of young people were building some fencing along part of the walking route. I inquired about them and they were part of a crew for something called the Tree Trust. Checking out the website, it’s a most impressive bunch. Unless I walked the route, and had asked the question, I wouldn’t have known they existed.

Part of the Tree Trust crew, July 3, 2014, Woodbury MN

Our communities are diverse, of many parts. We’re not walking the route alone.

Deer on the walking trail, September 13, 2014.