#726 – Dick Bernard: A Most UNholy Trinity

NOTE to regular readers at this space: there are some interesting responses at the end of the post on 42, here.
Last Sunday was the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity in the Catholic Church.
I’m lifelong Catholic, and as usual I was at Mass at Basilica last Sunday. (For those interested, the readings were: 1 PRV 8:22-31, 2 ROM 5:1-5 and JN 16:12-15)
Explaining the doctrine of the Trinity seems always to be a difficult task: how do you take a doctrinal belief – “Father, Son, Holy Ghost” as we learned it – and make into something understandable.
Our Priest, retired, a regular celebrant for us, did a pretty decent job simplifying the belief into a series of human relationships: parent-child; sibling-sibling; general relationship to all that surrounds us – Father, Son, Spirit. At least, that is how I heard his message, and I listen pretty carefully to sermons, good, bad or indifferent.
I have no beef with beliefs. We all have them, about any number of things.
But there are limits, and from time to time I run into abuses.
And shortly before I knew last Sunday was Trinity Sunday, I was thinking about another very unholy Trinity: “Truth”, Belief, and Power.
Perhaps this started a week or two earlier when I stopped by the ND Church where I had been confirmed in 1955.
Outside was a well kept sign announcing facts about the Church. Here’s the church and the sign.
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North Dakota Catholic Church April 16, 2013

North Dakota Catholic Church April 16, 2013


In the display area of the sign – you can just make it out at the bottom – was this phrase:
Have you read my bestseller?
There will be a test.
God

I wondered who authorized this “quote”. I presume the “bestseller” is the Bible, and I wondered what questions the writer would have on the “test”, and what the correct answers might be.
But mostly, I wondered, what presumptions did the writer make about what “God” believed, or even was. Everything about God is, after all, a belief, too.
I went on my way and reached my destination and the next day went to daily Mass with a valued relative in the nearby Catholic Church. The Priest, who is a person I like a lot, gave an earnest sermon very heavy on what he felt was “truth”.
By itself, that would have passed over, but a couple hours earlier I’d read a rather strange comment in the May 17, 2013 Fargo Forum: the headline read “[ND Congressman] Rep. Cramer links abortion, school shootings in speech“.
Now, that grabbed my attention. Turned out it was at commencement exercises at a Catholic College in Bismarck ND and “in an interview…Cramer said he was trying to convey a message centered on speaking the truth about today’s culture.”
What the Representative was really speaking about was his belief about what truth might be (or, more cynically, what he hoped his listeners would translate into votes for him next election). Worse, he was speaking from a position of temporal power: the single Congressperson for an entire state, professing to act for 700,000 or so citizens.
Visit over, I came home, mulling this whole topic over in my mind. Belief, Truth, Power is a horrible combination, including for the ones temporarily holding temporal (or religious) power.
At least, mostly, as reflected by the fine Priest at Mass last Sunday, on matters like the “Most Holy Trinity”, even my very fallible Church accepts that beliefs are just that: beliefs beyond clear and certain understanding.
But there are no end to the examples of this Unholy Trinity in our contemporary society, including within the powerful in my Church’s hierarchy.
To the person who put up that sign suggesting God’s command to the reader; to the folks obsessed with exercising temporal power to impose their beliefs, and declare what absolute “objective” “truth” is; I wish all of them would be dismissed for what they are. Charlatans and frauds.
Oh, how I wish.

#725 – Dick Bernard: Sheroes

May 20 a massive tornado devastated Moore OK. Two elementary schools were in the path of the tornado, and in the wake of the storm the heroism of school employees in shielding their children was deservedly high-lited. The same thing occurred in the wake of the horrific Newtown CT carnage in December, 2012. There, too, teachers who were killed by the assailant gave their lives protecting their charges.
“Weren’t nuthin”, they might all say in unison. In times of crisis one of the natural human emotions – to protect the more vulnerable – kicked in. Oh, they could have fled, too, but they didn’t. Because these were elementary schools, and elementary school teachers are ordinarily mostly female, the heroes were women. And they were deservedly celebrated for their heroism.
A few days prior to the Moore tragedy I had been to Coon Rapids for the annual Recognition Dinner of the Anoka-Hennepin Education Minnesota, the union representing the teachers in Minnesota’s largest school district. I had been part of Anoka-Hennepin from 1965-82, both as teacher and as union staff; and since 1999 the union has always had its annual event, which I try to attend every year.
The dinner is a brief interlude in a long year to celebrate the good people who stand up and stand out in their commitment to their colleagues and to public education generally. It is always uplifting.
This May 15, one of the first people I ran into was Joan Gamble, a lady I had first met in the mid-1960s when we both taught Junior High School in Blaine.
Joan and I didn’t know each other well; she taught 7th grade Life Science, and I, 8th grade geography.
But schools are their own communities and in assorted ways people become familiar.
Joan hadn’t been to many of these annual Union gatherings, so it was a good chance to catch up, and we sat together at the same table.
Dinner over, the program began and President Julie Blaha announced that there were, this year, three recipients for the “Lifetime Achievement Award”, an annual award given to people who have made a difference. The names were not on the program.
The first Award was granted, then the Second.
The third Award was, the President announced, to Joan Gamble, the lady seated to my right.
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Joan Gamble, May 15, 2013

Joan Gamble, May 15, 2013


Joan, Julie announced, was the first woman to be President of the Anoka-Hennepin Education Association back in 1975-76, and it was during her active time in the Association that women everywhere were standing up for their rights: little things like maternity leave, etc., etc., etc. It was not a kind and gentle time. To change the status quo is never easy. The task to fell to quiet, powerful witnesses, like Joan, who did the work of making a difference.
Gentle, quiet Joan Gamble, who I knew both as classroom teacher, and as Association President and active Association member back in the 60s and 70s, was finally being recognized for being the “shero” that she was – blazing a trail for other females, including Julie Blaha.
Sitting at the table I looked at the list of other retirees like myself who were in attendance May 15. There were numerous other women who in various ways had “stepped up to the plate” when hard things needed doing, and they did them: People like Darlene Aragon, Dee Buth, Linda Den Bleyker, Sue Evert, Betty Funk, Kathy Garvey, Julie Jagusch, Vick Klaers, Sandy Longfellow, Kathryn Pierce, Linda Riihiluoma, Laura Schommer, Kathleen Sekhon, Sandy Skaar, and Kathy Tveit.
There were men on the list too, of course, slightly less than half.
But this was a day to celebrate the positive accomplishment of women, following in the difficult footsteps of many other women in history who said “it’s time for a change”.
It was great seeing you Joan, and all.
Again, Congratulations.
Mark McNab, Vicki Klaers, and Joan Gamble, lifetime achievement awards May 15, 2013

Mark McNab, Vicki Klaers, and Joan Gamble, lifetime achievement awards May 15, 2013

#724 – Dick Bernard: Memorial Day

U.S. flag at Hennepin County Government Center, May 7, 2013

U.S. flag at Hennepin County Government Center, May 7, 2013


“I decided to ask about the flag. The first person, a receptionist answering the phone, had no idea why the flag was there; the person to which I was first referred had no idea either. The third person I talked to said the flag had been there for years, and had been put up in the wake of 9-11-01: “they had to do something“, she said.”
Memorial Day is an important day for me. I almost always participate in some way. For the last ten years or so, you can find me at the grassy area adjacent to the Vietnam Memorial on the State Capitol grounds in St. Paul (9:30 this morning). Normally there will be about 50-100 there; the original organizer and many of the participants are Vietnam War vets (I’m a Vietnam era Army vet – I didn’t realize that at the time, 1962-63, but I was). The sponsoring organization is Veterans for Peace, a group I’ve long belonged to for many years.
This morning will be a somber, gentle time. There’s “open mike”, and almost certainly someone will pop up to defend war, and we’ll listen respectfully.
It’s that kind of bunch.
Almost certainly, a few feet away from our site, right after we adjourn, the more military remembrance of Memorial Day will take place, uniforms, martial music and the like. This is also a tradition.
The observances are the same, but very separate, marking unity and disunity….
Over 100 miles north of here at Big Sandy Lake, today, my 92-year old friend, Lynn Elling. and his family will dedicate a place for the ashes of his beloved spouse of 68 years, Donna. Donna died last June, and it was a family decision to bury her ashes on this weekend, near their lake cabin.
Lynn, a Naval officer in the Pacific in both WWII and the Korean War, became and remains a lion for Peace, becoming a regular protestor during the Vietnam War and a very large presence for alternatives to War, especially related to Law Day May 1, and Peace Sites. Perhaps a culminating event for him was two weeks in Vietnam last month, with the Vietnamese orphan he and Donna adopted from My Tho Orphanage in 1973. Tod, now 43, went on this grueling excursion with his Dad, April 15-30. It was something Lynn seemed compelled to do, this year. Some of his words about the trip are written at the end of this post.
My memories of war past are quite vivid also. Quite often I remember one or another.
Most recently May 4, 2013, the first Memorial Day I remember came to mind. It was on the grounds of Sykeston ND High School, and it was Memorial Day, 1946. I remember it as a six year old. Others there would remember it differently, including my Dad, whose brother was killed on the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor, Dec. 7, 1941; or my Uncle George, my Mom’s brother, who had just months earlier returned from three years as a Naval officer in the Pacific, and taught in the high school.
There were the wooden crosses on the ground, and the traditional rifle salute. It was a never-to-be forgotten memory.
And another memory, 36 years later, November, 1982, when by chance I happened to be at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington on the weekend it was dedicated: Bernard card 1982001
That, too, is never to be forgotten.
So it goes. I could add more memories. So could you.
But the conversation needs to go on about what it is we are considering or remembering or celebrating or whatever we are doing this Memorial Day.
This is a prime time to enter, and not leave, an essential conversation of what we are about as a nation: are we a place permanently gripped by fear of possible “terror”; or are we a nation working together towards a time of peace.
If you’ve got some time, here’s a long post I read just this morning which may help bring the debate into focus. It is long, but sometimes long items are useful.
Terror, and it’s first cousins Fear and Loathing, are useful emotional hooks on which to hang the argument for perpetual war.
I think there’s a better way. Indeed, there has to be a better way, otherwise we cease to exist.
Make this Memorial Day a Memorable Day.
ADDENDA:
Some of Lynn Elling’s memories of the trip of he and his son, Tod, to Vietnam, April 15-30, 2013:
The trip that Tod and I took to Vietnam April 15-30 was an incredibly wonderful experience for both of us. The local hardware store owner, Jim Logan, lo and behold, made all of the arrangements including round trip tickets, hotel reservations, etc etc, once we knew what our basic plans were.
We took off from the Minneapolis airport on the 15th and landed in Chicago. There we had a 2 1/2 hour layover and when it was time to head for the gate the captain of our plane identified me and escorted us right ahead of everyone so we were the first to board the plane. The reason for this was that I had written to the CEO of United Airlines and told him our story, which was referred to one of his lieutenants. We were treated royally by UA during more of the flights with them.
We had a 5 hour layover in Hong Kong and got into Vietnam in the middle of the night on the 16th. The hotel was modest but very nice. Very few people, even at the hotel, could speak English but we got along okay.
We ate most of our breakfasts and some of the dinners across the street at the hotel over there–great food and more people who could speak English.
After visiting several key areas in Ho Chi Minh City, which were very impressive, we checked out after 5 days and headed south to My Tho with a cab driver that could speak English. The trip lasted about 2 1/2 hours. Again the hotel was nice and the food was good. After two days of exploring we found the Catholic Church, school and former orphanage that Tod stayed in for his first three years. The Mother Superior and two other nuns provided great hospitality and we had the opportunity to visit several classrooms. The kids went wild over Tod, sang songs and we very friendly though they only spoke Vietnamese.
In most of the areas that we visited they have very few stop signs and the traffic involved motor scooters and bikes going quite fast and carrying a number of people–even small children and babies. In order to cross the street I would hold Tod’s arm and we would start walking very slowly. We never had any problems or witnessed and accidents because they were all very careful not to come too close to us. It was a fantastic experience.
One day we went by boat out to an island in the bay and there went ashore, had refreshments and walked about 2 blocks through the jungle in the rain. We finally came to another boat landing with long, narrow canoes that had seats only about 7 inches from the hull. Can you imagine me trying to get down the stairs and finally sitting down in this boat without falling in the river? I was ready to call it off but Tod said, “Dad, you’re okay. I will help you along.” So I started down the slippery slope, wondering if that might be the end of our trip, but I made it. We took off with 3 other passengers and a female paddler in the front and a male paddler in the back. We went through the jungle and expected to see crocodiles and other wildlife. This is where the Americans fought the Vietnamese during the war and the Vietnamese had a substantial edge. Again, this was a great experience.

UPDATE 11:30 a.m. May 27
Veterans for Peace at Minnesota Vietnam Memorial

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Barry Riesch at 2013 Veterans for Peace gathering at MN Vietnam Memorial.

Barry Riesch at 2013 Veterans for Peace gathering at MN Vietnam Memorial.


Memorial organizer Barry Riesch set out to lower our expectations this morning. This and that hadn’t worked out: no musicians, guy who was going to set up the sound system hadn’t showed, etc.
I’ve been to a lot of these gatherings. Each year they’ve been better, and this year was the most outstanding one yet. Sometimes that’s how failures go….
Perhaps, tonight on Twin Cities KARE-11 news, you’ll see a snippet from the event. A cameraman spent a lot of time with us today.
Becky Lourey, whose son Matthew died in Iraq eight years ago yesterday, spoke incredibly movingly about her son and survival. During her talk she mentioned going through his duffle bags, sent home to his widow, and finding his poncho, which she took out of a ruck-sack and wore during much of her talk. She shared with all of us a recent e-mail regarding her son, sent to another of her sons. It speaks for itself: Lourey Mem Day 2013001 The website is here.
Becky Lourey May 27, 2013

Becky Lourey May 27, 2013


The event closed, as it always has, with a solitary bagpiper walking into the distance playing “Amazing Grace”.
I thought, how appropriate a time to start changing the conversation. But how difficult that will be.
In our culture, to change conversation has come to mean to win, which means someone else has to lose.
You don’t change a conversation by planting feet righteously in cement, but actually listening.
Are we up to the task?
Close of todays Memorial

Close of todays Memorial


Postnote: There was no dissenting voice today, had there been he/she would have been welcome to speak. The usual event which followed Vets for Peace didn’t happen this year. Likely it was at some other place.

#723 – Dick Bernard: 42

Yesterday we went to the film “42“, based on the true story of Jackie Robinson’s breaking the color-line in major league baseball in 1947. Eighth grade grandson, Ryan, who enjoys baseball went along, and approved.
We’d highly recommend the film to anyone. Twin Cities showtimes are readily accessible here. If not from this area, simply enter 42 in your search engine, and similar information will come up for your area.
Imperfect as race relationships remain to this day, it is difficult to imagine the hostile environment that faced Jackie Robinson when he decided to accept Branch Rickey’s offer to break through the color barrier for “America’s game” in 1946.
I was six years old at the time, and WWII had just ended, and there were black units who served with the distinction in the military. But they were segregated, and in other areas the racial division was clear and dangerous to cross.
In 1947, I lived in the middle of North Dakota, and there was no television, and as best as I can recall, no newsreels calling attention to Robinson in the very rare movies we saw. In the 40s, the closest I would come to experiencing blackness was Little Black Sambo, a popular kids book, which really related more to India than Africa, but nonetheless stereotyped black people.
So, Jackie Robinson’s story on film, as it reflected 1947, was important for me to see in person.
Robinson deserves iconic status, including the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1962.
While I watched, I became most interested in the numerous subparts of his story: how, for just one instance, Pee Wee Reese, a well known baseball name to me as a kid, came to play a significant part in the drama of 1947; or how the non-business side of Dodgers owner Branch Rickey had a strong impact on Rickey’s crucial decision to bring up a “Negro” player to the Major Leagues.
But more than the movie story itself, I found myself thinking of vignettes from my own life that put into context the whole business of integration in this country.
Seventy-four years had passed since the Emancipation Proclamation when Branch Rickey and Jackie Robinson integrated major league baseball in April, 1947.
Ten years later, in central North Dakota Sep 16, 1957, I saw Louis Armstrong and his band play a concert in person. I didn’t know till many years later that the previous night, Armstrong and ensemble were the first blacks ever to stay in Grand Forks ND’s hotel. When I saw Armstrong, the national news was concentrating on the integration of Little Rock Central High School. In fact, in Grand Forks, on television, Louis Armstrong spoke out his outrage about what was happening to those little children in Arkansas.
A few years late, in 1963, in the Army in South Carolina, I saw for the first time “colored” entrances and drinking fountains, and all sorts of machinations to make sure that the races stayed separate and unequal, even in the face of mandated movement towards equality. The story goes on and on….
My 8th grade grandson, watching yesterday, is likely only vaguely aware of the long struggle towards some semblance of equality of opportunity in this country. His generation is less likely to be taught to hate than mine.
It will probably require the death of most of my generation to create some semblance of color-blindness in our country.
In the meantime, later pace-setters who take big risks like Jackie Robinson took, depend on each one of us to be their Pee Wee Reese’s, to do some of the heavy lifting to bring meaning to the phrase “created equal”. (The original Constitution and Declaration of Independence, of course, reserve that right to White Men of Privilege and there has been over 200 years of struggle to get us to where we are today.)
I don’t think we’ll go backwards, but it will take continuing effort on our parts to help continue the move forwards to “liberty and justice for all” (from our Pledge of Allegiance).
UPDATE from Bruce, May 26: 42 is the only # in Major League Baseball that has been retired by all teams. For my money, Jackie Robinson is right next to MLK, Jr.
from Bob, May 26: I was 10 years old in 1947 and my Dad was the town team manager where I grew up in Iowa, just off the old Lincoln Highway. We had about two black families in Carroll who worked for the railroad – so I had the advantage of looking up to one of their sons who excelled in high school sports, and academically. So when I became aware of the resistance to Jackie Robinson, I was upset. In 1948 the Cleveland Indians brought up Larry Doby in center field, the first black in the American League. I could recite the entire lineup of the 1948 Indians, my favorite team because they had Bobby Feller, the heater from Van Meter, Iowa. A few years latter I traveled with a friend to visit his relatives from Cleveland, and was appalled to hear his brother-in-law spill out all kinds of racist venom with regard to the Blacks now on Indians, and also those Mexicans on the team. They had Doby in center, big Luke Easter on first and Bobby Avila at 2nd. I remain so grateful to my parents who were not racist and Dad applauded the arrival of Black players in the majors. I never heard them use the N word. There were always some traveling Black teams from the south that would come through and play local town teams. Dad was a pitcher and remembered throwing against a team who called themselves the Tennessee Rats.
I found the movie to be very moving.
From Will, May 27: I know you have an open mind on most issues so I invite you to and your readers to check a long but compelling book, “The Angela Davis Reader.”
Frome Jermitt, May 27: Dick: I believe personal experiences greatly impact most attitudes toward race, gender, religion and other values. I also saw the movie “42” with my grandson who is 13. It provided me with a wonderful opportunity to share many of my personal experiences relating to race relations with him and explain how these experiences help to mold my attitudes. Some of my experiences I shared with my grandson following the movie that had a great impact on my life included:
1. My first personal exposure to the discriminatory practices relating to race occurred in 1954 while in the Army and stationed at Camp Pickett, Virginia. Growing up in a rural community in South Dakota, I had no contact with any other race other than my own German heritage. Visiting several Virginia communities, I not only observed separate bathrooms, water fountains, barber shops, for white and black people, but intolerable behaviors of white people toward black people.
2. Teacher in an all-black intercity school in Milwaukee in the 1960’s was an exceptional learning experience for me. The learning environment for students was demoralizing at best. In my own teacher conditions, I had to teach six of seven class periods per day. My class size ranged from a low of 35 to a high of 38 students per day. The teaching materials (text and library books, science equipment and materials, etc.) , as meager as they were, were also in very bad condition. But this was all overshadowed with wonderful relationships with my students that were grounded in respect, high expectations, tolerance and humor. It created my appreciation of human dignity demonstrated by my students against odds that are not tolerated by most white cultures in the United States.
3. While teaching at this school, I had the privilege of developing a friendship with Henry Aaron. This provided me with a deeper appreciation for the challenges faced by black baseball players in the culture of baseball in the 1960’s. When Mr. Aaron was breaking Babe Ruth’s home run record, he and many family members were threatened with personal harm, creating also a psychological challenge that he had to overcome.
Even though these stories were shared with my grandson prior to this evening, he had a much better understanding of the challenges of relationships; race, religion, social status and other following our common experience of watching the movie, 42. I have often used movie scenes in working with groups to further their organizational development, because a well-crafted movie has the capacity to engage the viewer on an emotional level, and connect more readily to a concept. The power of a well-told story to advance social change is incalculable.
From Will, May 31: I may be one of the few of you who saw Robinson play, v. Cubs in Wrigley Field.

#720 – Dick Bernard: "ah one and ah two…"

THE TORNADO IN OKLAHOMA: While preparing this blogpost, word came of the tragic tornado most affecting Moore, OK. It caused me to recall another tornado which for some reason I’ve always remembered, the Fargo Tornado June 20, 1957003. See photo at the end of this post. In times like these thoughts always go to a heightened sense of community, and the importance of the public infrastructure and planning for the long term possibilities. Sometimes we do this well; often we do this poorly.
*
Lawrence Welk remembered
August 10, 1994, I was at the ancestral farm near LaMoure ND, trying to do a small part to help my Uncle Vince and Aunt Edithe during harvest time.
This particular day, a Wednesday, for some unremembered reason, the suggestion was made that we make the 110 mile drive west on Highway 13 to see the small farm near Strasburg where Lawrence Welk grew up.
I took a photo of Vince and Edithe, my Mom’s brother and sister, that day:
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Vince and Edithe at the Lawrence Welk boyhood home near Strasburg ND August 10, 1994.

Vince and Edithe at the Lawrence Welk boyhood home near Strasburg ND August 10, 1994.


For anyone over a certain age, the Lawrence Welk story doesn’t need repeating; and his long popular show lives on, larger than life, on TV week after week. He is a part of Americana.
He was the first recipient of the North Dakota Roughrider Award in 1961.
Lawrence was of the group called German-Russians who make up much of the population of South Central North Dakota. He and his brothers lived in the upstairs and unheated attic of the tiny farmhouse, and Welk practiced his music skills in the barn, entertaining the cows and the chickens when not doing the hard work required of farmers.
Lawrence Welk came unexpectedly back into my life last Thursday, on a visit to my still-surviving Uncle and Aunt, now living in Assisted Living and Nursing Home respectively in LaMoure; now 88 and 92.
We were about finished with “dinner” (the noon meal will always be “dinner” out on the prairie!) and in walked a lady and her husband who had come to do a show for the residents that very afternoon.
It was then I met Loretta (Welk) Jung and her husband Oliver.
Loretta (Welk) Jung at St. Rose Care Center in LaMoure ND May 16, 2013

Loretta (Welk) Jung at St. Rose Care Center in LaMoure ND May 16, 2013


Loretta, a retired First Grade teacher in Jamestown, is related to Lawrence: their Dads were first cousins, living in nearby communities. Loretta knew her much older cousin Lawrence as a person and at some point in time decided to carry on the Welk tradition by doing a road show at Nursing Homes and the like on her cousin, Lawrence Welk.
I can attest, she gave a fascinating program that enthralled the attentive audience at St. Rose Care Center last Thursday. If you look carefully, you can see Uncle Vince and Aunt Edith seated in the second row.
IMG_1342
The following day I went out to the farm with Vince to help with the mundane things that needed doing.
Mowing the grass beside the house, I found a verdant reminder of Edith’s love of flowers…she hasn’t been out to the farm for a long while, so these tulips had just decided to take things into their own hands and just get about the business of blooming.
May 17, 2013, beside the house

May 17, 2013, beside the house


We picked a bunch of the flowers and delivered them to Edith in her room at the Care Center.
The next day we picked some more, and brought them in as a more-or-less floral arrangement for the dining room.
May 18, 2013

May 18, 2013


And so the seasons go on.
In earth terms, it is spring, and the rhubard (“pie plant” to Edith) begins to grow as it always does in the patch in the garden; and the apple trees by the house begin leafing out for another season – maybe there’ll be lots of apples by fall, maybe few. We shall see.
"Pie Plant" (Rhubarb) May 17, 2013

“Pie Plant” (Rhubarb) May 17, 2013


April Tree leafing out at the farm May 17, 2013.

April Tree leafing out at the farm May 17, 2013.


For the rest of us, we’re in our own “season” in our lives.
May this season be a good one for you.
Cherish each day. Here’s a ten minute video on gratitude and living each day that helps put this into focus.
Dr. Elwyn Robinson on Lawrence Welk in History of North Dakota, c 1966, page 555: “While he was an individual, not a type, Lawrence Welk, the orchestra leader, gave all Americans an image of the North Dakota character. Of Alsatian stock, he grew up on a far near Strasburg, North Dakota, learned the accordion from his father, and in the 1920s began to play at churches, country dances, and then on the radio station at Yankton. After the Second World War, he and his orchestra, playing his famous “Champagne Music,” attained success with long engagements at hotels, many recordings, and a weekly television show. The honest, friendly, and unsophisticated Welk and his wholesome show gave millions of viewers some understanding of North Dakotans. During his rise he had met ridicule and contempt, and so courage and energy played a part in his success. His loyalty to North Dakota was obvious to those who watched his program.”
Thursday, June 20, 1957, Fargo ND
Fargo Tornado Jun 1957002

#719 – Dick Bernard: A Right long denied, finally granted.

Back in 2000, my college, Valley City State University, endeavored to publish an Alumni Directory. To my knowledge, this was a first time venture for our institution, and when the opportunity to participate came, I, and a lot of other folks took the risk of spending a few dollars, and revealing a little bit about ourselves.
I had been nearly 40 years out of college when the Directory came, and I had rarely been back. I looked through the index for names I recognized, and one of them was my college roommate for three years at “STC”. His was a terse descriptor: he was a Media Specialist (librarian) in a large urban high school. His listing did not include spouse or children (a common addition), but did include an e-mail address.
We made contact, and at some point along the way, we met for lunch.
Our single meeting was one of those “long ago and far away” kinds of conversations…yes, we had shared a college dorm room for three years those long years earlier, but we had come to the college as strangers, and while we got along well (I think), and participated in some of the same kinds of things, after college we went our separate ways.
I don’t recall that we got into the nitty gritty of personal lives at that lunch, but at some point along the way, my roomie mentioned his “partner”. It was not till then that I had an inkling that my roomie was gay. That made no difference to me. He was then, and obviously now as well, a good guy and I was simply glad to have become reacquainted.
Fast forward to 2012, and the second edition of the VCSU Alumni Directory. Another risk, taken.
Presently the volume came, and this one included more personal information IF one so elected. Quite a number of us went into quite a bit of detail in the 2012 volume, including my college room-mate from 1958-61.
In relevant part this retiree said this about his personal life: “… I’m in a 29 year old relationship with my partner, Sam. When Sam retires, we are moving to the farm. No, actually a real farm…you know, chickens, ducks, geese, cows and stuff. Don’t ask what it too to talk me into this. My best wishes to all….”
I’ve not seen Dick since that one meeting some years ago, and I’ve never met Sam, but hope to. Dick and I are in touch on occasion by e-mail.
There are many other thoughts about others I’ve known which I might share, but I’m making this Dick and Sam’s day.
My thoughts are with my college roommate and his partner today, more so than most, since the Minnesota Governor has signed into law new legislation that appears to give gay couples the rights that straight couples have always had.
Something that seemed impossible a year ago has now come to fruition.
I don’t know enough about the details of the new law to comment on it, but I am absolutely delighted that it passed and was signed.
What made the difference between ten years ago, last year and now?
In my opinion, it was the gay population “coming out”, everywhere.
It had to be a horribly difficult first step for most, but it was the absolutely essential first step.
Once family members, and co-workers, and friends, and fellow parishioners and others in our many “circles” found out that that the fine person they knew was gay, they could accept him or her as no different than they were – another human being with feelings and rights to express those feelings, and not to be discriminated against because of sexual preference.
We all can learn a powerful lesson from seeing what happened when people got their voices and spoke up.
My guess is this change is a permanent one, and it won’t be long before people wonder why we waited so long….

#718 – Dick Bernard: Flowers at the Ramsey County Workhouse

A couple of years ago, Kellee, who is one of my favorite (tongue firmly in cheek) “bloodletters” at the Woodbury branch of Memorial Blood Centers, told me about the spring time flower sale at the Ramsey County Correctional Facility at Lower Afton and Century Ave in nearby Maplewood, a couple of miles south of 3M world headquarters. We went over the next day and bought Mother’s Day flowers for our gang.
It was a great decision, and each year it’s becoming a tradition. Today we went over again, and if you’re still looking for some nice posies at a very affordable (and partially tax-deductible) cost, check them out.
(click to enlarge)
Flower sale001
There’s nothing dramatic to this story.
Yes, the helpers are inmates, as polite and respectful as any you’d find in your usual retail outlet. Yes, they’re doing time for something or other. But no matter, they’re somebodies child and this is mothers day weekend. They made some mistake, and maybe the sentence will change their life….
And the flowers are, well, flowers, nicely put together, as in any greenhouse.
I haven’t inquired about the story behind this small treasure in our midst. There’s time to do that.
We’ve not regretted making purchases there…and now we notice that they’re going to do a fall season as well.
To our mind, it’s win all-around.
If you’re in the area, stop over, if for no other reason than to look around.

May 10, 2013

May 10, 2013


IMG_1276
May 10, 2013, Greenhouses at Ramsey County Correctional facility

May 10, 2013, Greenhouses at Ramsey County Correctional facility


We give the big commercial establishments plenty of business. Once or twice a year at the Workhouse is very much worthwhile.

#715 – Dick Bernard: On growing Elder.

This afternoon, at the annual Heart of the Beast May Day Parade, the obvious salute at the end of the regular parade was to “Grandmas and Grandpas”
(Click on photos to enlarge them)

Near end of May Day/Cinco de Mayo Parade, south Minneapolis, May 5, 2013

Near end of May Day/Cinco de Mayo Parade, south Minneapolis, May 5, 2013


A Grandpa (at left) and a Grandma honor the May Day Parade as it nears its end, May 5, 2013

A Grandpa (at left, partially obscured by a lady) and a Grandma are honored by, and honor, the Minneapolis May Day Parade as it nears its end, May 5, 2013

.
It was an especially nice, and particularly pertinent, touch to a topic that has been much on my mind in recent days, but has been on my thought screen for many years: how elders fit in (or not) in our contemporary American society.
In the last week or two I’d been concentrating on a long remembrance of past days at tiny Sykeston ND High School: the place I had graduated from in May, 1958.
Among many other memories, it occurred to me that at the time of my high school graduation 55 years ago, my Dad and Mother – he was the Superintendent and one of my teachers – were 50 and 48 years old respectively.
My oldest son is now 49. And my parents seemed plenty old, back then in May, 1958.
Then in mid-week last week, more or less impromptu, I had something to do with a gathering on Law Day, May 1, which by design celebrated several Elders, most over 90, all of whom had been prominent in their working lives, and now are part of the huge category called “who’s he?”, or “she?”.
In conversing with one of them – a man I scarcely knew before April, 2013 – I had occasion to remember a workshop from 1998, which became my Christmas card in 2000.
The topic was “Canyon of 60 Abandon”. The card is brief and can be read here: Canyon of 60 Abandon002
The premise of the Canyon story is really very simple: ours is a society which tends to discard its Elders at an arbitrary time called “retirement”. Oh, we give them things like Social Security and Medicare, but basically they’re marched off into a remote area to their old person thing, and (I suppose) hopefully leave behind a substantial financial inheritance.
The story goes on about one family who violated the society rules, and hid their Elder under their porch, ultimately to their great benefit.
In my recollection of that now-15 years ago workshop, the story-teller, Michael Meade, didn’t go into specifics about what value their Elder added to the family that benefited from his or her presence.
That is the essence of story-telling. It is left to the listeners to create the real-world basis of the story.
I’ve now been in that “Canyon of 60 Abandon” for over 13 years, and it has been a most interesting and extraordinarily enriching life experience.
There is something that the Elders possess that those younger cannot, and it is important that the Elders be valued and included and not discarded.
How our society relates to those “out to pasture” tells a great deal about us.
And it is important for us to really pay attention to these relationship questions, as we struggle, ever more, with an uncertain future, and with difficulties in inter-generational communication (think Facebook versus the face-to-face word-of-mouth) that our ancestors would have relied on not too many years ago.
Who do you know in that Canyon? How can they be more truly valued while they are living. And if you’re in that Canyon, what is important about not isolating yourself?
Can we talk?
ADDED Posts on this topic: June 7, 2013, September 1, 2013

Dick Bernard: Thoughts on Sykeston High School at its Centennial

UPDATE: June 2, 2013: In this post, reference is made to a 100 question state-wide test on North Dakota taken by the author at Sykeston High School in 1957. A post specifically about the test, including an answer key and more related information is here. The May 9 post also includes two assessments of the future of North Dakota which were included in textbooks published in 1957 and 1963. They are interesting to read.
NOTE: This is a very long post which may be of interest to residents of Sykeston ND, or those interested in rural education in ND and elsewhere 50 and more years ago.
Other posts in the series about Sykeston ND:
Feb 11, 2013: “Sykes High, oh Sykes High School”
May 9 A 1957 Social Studies Test
June 12 Remembering Sykeston in late 1940s
June 28 Snapshots in History of Sykeston
June 29 Sports in 1950s small towns in North Dakota
July 3: Remembering Don Koller and the Lone Ranger
July 10: After a visit to Sykeston and Valley City, July 5 and 6, 2013
A postcard brought news of a July 4-6 2013 celebration in Sykeston ND, celebrating the Centennial of Sykeston High School, from which I graduated in 1958.
While I attended the high school only the single year of 1957-58, it is of far more than routine importance to my family. My Dad, Henry, was Superintendent of the School from 1945-51 and again from 1957-61. Mom, Esther, taught in one of the two elementary classrooms there from 1957-61. When the school year began in September, 1945, Dad was 37, Mom had just turned 36. When they left Sykeston in 1961 they were 53 and 51.
Today I’m 73. It is hard to imagine my parents as that young, back then….
Sykes High was a central and crucial part of my life from age five till eighteen, never more than a block or two away from where we lived – home.
I have all of Mom and Dad’s teaching contracts, which are all basically identical to the three sample contracts from the Sykeston years which you can view here: Contracts 45-57-60001
Every contract, in their long careers, was for one year: when you signed the contract, you agreed you were fired at the end of the year. So we kids migrated with them from town to town throughout North Dakota.
But Sykeston held a different status. It was very much our “hometown”.
Right after my graduation in 1958, I went around the town taking (I would guess) ten color photographs with a new camera. Nine of them survive, including this one of the high school, below. (The other eight are at the end of this post. Anyone from Sykeston in that era will recognize them all.)
(click on all photos to enlarge them)

Sykeston High School 1958 by Dick Bernard

Sykeston High School 1958 by Dick Bernard


When Dad came to Sykeston for the 1945-46 school year, Mom was expecting child #4, Frank, who was born in November. She stayed in the tiny town of Eldridge west of Jamestown. Her sister Edith stayed with her for the last months.
Frank was named for Dad’s brother, our Uncle Frank, who had been killed on the Arizona at Pearl Harbor, Dec. 7, 1941.
Sometime in the summer of 1945, the family came to Sykeston and Doc and Liz Dummer showed them around. The Germans had just surrendered, beginning the end of WWII, in May 1945 (some of our cousins were Germans, conscripts in the German Army – War is not abstract, “us” vs “them”). Mom’s brother, George Busch, had been hired to teach at Sykeston in the Fall, but was an officer on the Destroyer Woodworth DD460 in the Pacific and his wife, my Aunt Jean, filled in for him till he was discharged in early November, 1945. His ship and many others docked in Tokyo Bay September 10, 1945. As Grandma Rosa wrote about that time: “Hurrah, the old war is over”.
Jean, then George, taught at Sykeston High School for two or three years. Their first child, Mary Kay, was born in the Sykeston years.
Here are a couple of period photos from early our beginnings at Sykeston ND:
Jean and Gloria Dummer and Mary Ann, Florence and Dick Bernard, probably summer of 1945 at Arrowhead Lake.

Jean and Gloria Dummer and Mary Ann, Florence and Dick Bernard, probably summer of 1945 at Arrowwood Lake.


Bernards at the Hafner House on the High School Block, probably January, 1946.  Esther and Henry with Frank, and Richard, Mary Ann and Florence.

Bernards at the Hafner House on the High School Block, probably January, 1946. Esther and Henry with Frank, and Richard, Mary Ann and Florence.


Dad succeeded Everett Woiwode as Superintendent; some years later, Everett rejoined the Sykeston staff while Dad was Superintendent. Both were graduates of Valley City State Teachers College.
Among the local ‘gang’ of kids in the 1940s was Everett’s son, Larry, who at one point was a student at Sykes High, and who is one of North Dakota’s notable citizens, among the recipients of the North Dakota Theodore Roosevelt Rough Rider Awards. For awhile I roamed the Sykeston streets with Larry and the gang!
Writing this brings back many memories of the school* and the town. Two of the most prominent are these:
I vividly remember what had to be Memorial Day in May of 1946. There were crosses on the high school lawn, and an honor guard. It was less than a year after the horrors of World War II.
On another occasion, I’m guessing it was about 1950, a bunch of we boys were playing basketball in the little gym in the basement of the school – I remember the low ceiling and gray painted concrete floor. Dad came down stairs for some reason and fell down the last few steps. Being kids, we didn’t pay much attention, but I remember his fall to this day. He was in his early 40s then, so he probably recovered quickly. We kids were basically clueless and useless.
In April 1948, Dad took this picture of the school:
Sykeston High School April 1948

Sykeston High School April 1948


Like all small town schools in ND, Sykeston never had many students. The 1983 Centennial History of the town gives a good description of education, including the below photo of the High School at its opening in 1913. Here are the relevant pages of the 1983 History: Sykeston ND Schools001. At the July 2013 Reunion, a single page supplement to the 1983 book was made available, including the graduates from 1984-2005. If you have the book, this is worth printing to complete the history: Sykes Grads 1984-2005001
Sykeston High Sch 1913 001
The 1983 History list the names of the graduating seniors from 1916 to 1983. Perhaps still in the hall between the old and new school are the high school senior graduation photos from 1944-2005, the year the school closed.
In 2008 I took photos of all of these, and they are available on an open Facebook album page, including some other photos I added to the display. There was no graduation photo for 1945, possibly reflecting the turmoil around WWII, winding down in Europe, but still intense in the Pacific region. The 1944 photo includes several in military uniform.
Here is a list of the number of graduates in each year from 1916 to 2005: Sykeston Seniors 1916-2005. In all there were about 1050 high school graduates over the schools 92 years. The average class was about 11. The largest high school graduating classes were in 1927, 1936, 1965 and 1967. There were 31 graduates in 1927.
The smallest classes were post baby-boom years. In 2001 and 2002 there were only two graduates, and in 2005, the last year of the school, there were three graduates.
Sykeston’s data gives an interesting look at the ebbs and flows of population (and birth rate) in rural North Dakota, and is probably generally representative of other similar tiny towns in the Midwest.
Probably the proudest year for the town and the High School was 1950 when the Boys Basketball team won Third Place in the State Class C tournament in Valley City. I recall being there, but I was not yet 10, and I was not properly fixed on watching the games!
Much later, Travis Hafner (class of 1995) made a name for Sykeston as Designated Hitter for the Cleveland Indians.
Sykeston Welcome Sr 08001
Luckily, some years ago, I learned that Jean Dummer (Sister Jean) had the 1950 school annual, and I borrowed and copied it. The entire annual is available here: Sykes Hiawatha 50001 You can read, there, the exploits of the 1950 Boys Basketball team.
And I kept the 1958 Hiawatha, which Duffy Sondag and I co-edited. Here is that Yearbook: Sykes Hiawatha 58001 Even back then I wondered why the publisher, Intercollegiate Press of Kansas City, chose the mountain-scape for the inside front and back covers of the Annual. It didn’t quite match with the Sykeston I knew!
Here’s the high school Boys Basketball team for 1958-59, the year after I graduated:
1959 A Team: Jim Bierdeman Bob Miller, Duane Zwinger, Jim Merck and Lowell Fruhwirth

1959 A Team: Jim Bierdeman Bob Miller, Duane Zwinger, Jim Merck and Lowell Fruhwirth


And here’s a portion of the 1968 school newspaper, (reduced from the original legal size), apparently run on the same cantankerous old mimeograph machine that we’d used in 1958: Sykes High news May 68001 The news sheet would win no awards, I’d guess, but nonetheless it was news.
The newspaper says it is Vol. 34; the 1950 Annual was Vol. V, and 1958 was Vol. VIII. What if any meaning those numbers have is unknown.
In 1974, here’s what Sykeston’s Main Street looked like, through my Massachusetts brother-in-laws eyes.
Main Street, Sykeston, 1974, by Hank Maher

Main Street, Sykeston, 1974, by Hank Maher


For little towns, the public schools were an essential part of the very life of the community. When they closed, as Sykeston High School did at age 92, an important part of the town was lost with them: there remained fewer reasons to come to town.
PERSONAL
I’m old enough now (I’m 73 on this very day, May 4, 2013) and far enough away from those Sykeston years so I can reveal how I was (not) as a scholar at Sykes High!
As my 1957-58 Report Card indicates, I was not an especially diligent scholar. I was, in a four-letter word, l-a-z-y…. I only took those few courses, likely, because there were no other classes to take that I had not already completed somewhere else.
Sykeston Rept Card 57-58001
I had no inclination to make mischief, then. That natural kid impulse was never active. Dad was in the Superintendents office, or teaching Problems of Democracy (“Probs”); Mom was a floor below, teaching elementary. They were good teachers and gentle people, but not inclined to let us run free. Somebody from Sykeston said that it seemed I was “afraid of my Dad”. I won’t disagree. I had nothing to be especially afraid of, but he commanded respect. I didn’t test the boundaries.
Sometimes there is a suspicion that teachers kids get some sort of break. Not so, in my family. Best as I can tell, we were treated like everybody else. But neither was I one to overly attend to book-learning, then.
In the last Sykeston year, I did win the County “Know Your State” competition, and in December went to Grand Forks for the finals. In my memory, I finished second, behind Ron Lokken, the son of the President of Valley City State Teachers College.
Here is the test that we all took that November: ND Hist Govt Ctzn 1957001 It is interesting to note what knowledge they emphasized, then.
You can take it yourself, and see how you do.
Here is the list of the ND County finalists who went to Grand Forks December of 1957: ND Hist Co. Winners 1957001 Maybe you’ll see someone who became famous for some reason or another. Not I!
In the spring of 1958, my sister, Florence, was confirmed at St. Elizabeth’s, and we took a family photo at our house just east of the St. Elizabeth Town Hall.
I’m very much aware, at 73, that my parents, in that photo, were only 48 and 50 years old. My oldest child, son Tom, is 49….
1958 - Sykeston.  Back: Esther, Richard, Florence, Mary Ann and Henry; front John and Frank Bernard

1958 – Sykeston. Back: Esther, Richard, Florence, Mary Ann and Henry; front John and Frank Bernard


After graduation, I finally got the motivation to go to college. The motivator was unusual….
My first job was moving dirt, etc. by the wheelbarrow full at the under-construction St. Elizabeth Church across the street from the school. It was somewhere close to where the bell tower of the Church would be constructed that I made the decision that maybe going to college was a pretty good idea, and I then went straight through, summers and all, at Valley City State Teachers College, graduating in December, 1961.
In retrospect, I remember meeting Mr. Lou Bruhn at Valley City State Teachers College sometime earlier. He was Dean of Men there, and he’d been at the college when Mom and Dad were there. Maybe that helped soften me up?!
Ah the memories.
Here’s a 1960 photo of that then-brand new Church where I got education “religion”, plus the other photographs I took in May of 1958 in Sykeston.
Postcard of new St. Elizabeths Catholic Church, Sykeston ND ca 1960

Postcard of new St. Elizabeths Catholic Church, Sykeston ND ca 1960


Lake Hiawatha Spring 1958

Lake Hiawatha Spring 1958


Bridge to the Park, Spring 1958

Bridge to the Park, Spring 1958


Kids on the bridge, Spring 1958, the middle one my brother John, I think

Kids on the bridge, Spring 1958, the middle one my brother John, I think


From Cletus Fruhwirth: I was reading your thoughts on Sykeston, May 4. That colored picture – Kids on the bridge 1958. The tall skinny kid is my brother
Larry Fruhwirth, he would be 18yrs. The little boy is Johnny, I’m sure. and the little girl may be Patty Neumiller, who lived a mile west of us south of Sykeston. In case you didn’t know it, we lived 21/2 miles so. and a 1/4 mile east along highway # 30 which is straight south of Sykeston, and goes down to Medina, N.Dak.. Clete F.
The Swimming beach at Hiawatha Spring 1958

The Swimming beach at Hiawatha Spring 1958


The Water Tower, Spring 1958

The Water Tower, Spring 1958


Our new car, out by the dam, Spring 1958

Our new car, out by the dam, Spring 1958


Lilacs beside the lake, Spring 1958

Lilacs beside the lake, Spring 1958


St. Elizabeth School Spring 1958

St. Elizabeth School Spring 1958


* – Some of the other memories associated with Sykes High School
Being introduced to the evils of cigarettes (at least, cigarette butts) inside the merry-go-round on the school grounds (it had something of a wooden frame inside, and some slats were missing and we could get inside). Dad almost caught we hoodlums once. My career as a smoker was very short. He caught me later that same summer. Thanks, Dad!
Waiting for mandatory shots for athletics in the fall of 1957. Somebody suggested that the doctor inside had a square needle. Of course, that was crazy, but the suggestion was persuasive.
In 1957-58 there were huge surpluses of dairy products and entire pounds of butter were often on the lunchroom table. One of us had a prodigious appetite for butter. Either he got over it, or he has major defenses against cholesterol!
Seeing in a closet in the third floor west classroom a bunch of bound volumes of the early history newspapers from Sykeston. I hope they were given to the North Dakota Historical Society.
Trying to do printing on the mimeograph machine in the office. It was hideous. I empathize with those young scholars who tried to do the 1968 school newspaper that is linked earlier in this post.
“Zoo period” – the big study hall every afternoon, which Mr. Hanson tried to supervise. To my recollection, I never participated (fear, mostly). Some of the guilty will remember. I’ve come to have admiration for Mr. Hanson (who you’ll see pictured on the last page of the 1958 Hiawatha). I often wonder about him.
Henry and Esther Bernard
by Dick Bernard, May 4, 2013
I knew Henry and Esther as Dad and Mom, and from grades 8-12, as my “teacher”. Other readers of this piece who knew them will have a different context: teacher, neighbor, St. Elizabeth’s….. Together, they had 14 annual contracts teaching in the Sykeston High School from 1945-51 and again 1957-61.
Dad (1907-97) was his adult height, 6’3″, when he was in 8th grade in Grafton ND. That was near giant size about 1920. But to my knowledge, he never participated in sports. Likely reason was flat feet. At times, including Sykeston, he had to coach, probably solely because nobody else would or could. He always enjoyed sports. But coaching sports wasn’t his thing.
He was always religious – his best childhood friend became a Monsignor, and he’d likely have become a Priest if Latin hadn’t been so difficult. I never knew he – or Mom – to be pushy about religious beliefs with others, or with us after we left home. But back then, religion could be serious business, whatever your “brand”. One brand of “Christian” was not always very “Christian” with other brands. Then it was socially respectable, a usual practice, for one Christian religion to have not much to do with another.
Today it still happens, but is more covert, but in some ways far more dangerous than the intolerance was, then. Whenever one labels a group as being the problem (“Jews”, “Japs”, “Muslims”, etc.) there is potential for trouble.
To the end of his long life, Dad was bookish. He had both a Masters in Education and an Administrative Credential from University of North Dakota. He was a lifelong learner.
I seem to recall that during 1957-58 in Sykeston he was on a multi-year project to read the biographies of all the U.S. Presidents (Eisenhower was President, then). He’d get the books from the State Library in Bismarck. I never asked if he’d finished his project, but my guess is that he did. He was disciplined that way.
When at the end of July, 1949, the barn roof blew down at Mom’s parents farm near LaMoure – we were there at the time, a couple of hundred feet away – Dad stayed and helped rebuild the roof – a huge task. This was during our Sykeston years. My uncle Vince, now 88, still remembers Dad’s help.
Particularly after Mom died (1981), Dad became a very active volunteer, tutoring Hispanic kids in English at the school across the street from their home in San Benito TX. He did many other volunteer things as well.
Mom (1909-81) was my teacher in 8th grade, out at Ross in 1953-54 (Ross is in the midst of todays oil fields, and was then as well). She taught grades 7 and 8 and I have good memories of her as a teacher. Brother John, then of Kindergarten age in the time before Kindergarten was common, spent the day in the classroom with the rest of us.
She once recalled that as a youngster she had something of a dream to be a salesman. Yes salesMAN. She was enthusiastic. Her cheers stood out at basketball games.
She, too, was religious. They came to Sykeston in large part because St. Elizabeth school was there. In 1946 I started First Grade. All of we kids spent several grades at St. Elizabeth.
All in all, I thought Mom and Dad were pretty good partners. We were kept on a short leash and had our home chores. In my day, a 9:00 curfew was the norm.
Moving on: To be a teacher in those “good old days” was to be insecure. Between my birth and youngest brother John’s graduation from high school – 26 years – we made ten moves, two of them to Sykeston, two away from Sykeston.
We kids were accustomed to unanticipated moves. For our parents, sometimes the move was an undesired reality; at others, there seemed to be a better opportunity in another town. Available and adequate housing was often an issue. More than once, housing was far less than adequate.
I’ve done a great deal of family history over the years, and in some papers I found a letter from my Dad dated early April, 1990, responding to a question I had asked about the first move from Sykeston (1945-51) to Karlsruhe (1951-53). In relevant part he said this: “When I was not rehired in Sykeston, I did not know what to do. Apparently Father Sommerfeld [Sykeston pastor and immigrant from Germany] and Father Zimmerman [another native German Priest in nearly 100% German-Russian Karlsruhe] were good friends and Father Sommerfeld suggested that I apply for the school in Karlsruhe. One Saturday morning I drove to Karlsruhe to inquire. I was filled with doubts. When I got to the road that led to Karsruhe, north of Drake, I stopped the car, got out and wondered, should I go on or turn back home? I did go on. Don’t know whether I talked to Father Zimmerman first or a school board member, but apparently things worked out all right. I remember that on the way back to Sykeston that I picked up a couple of discarded automobile tires as we were still in need of the furnace at Sykeston….”
(Our Sykeston home, then, was the most northern house in town. Later Gartners lived there. The house has since burned down.)
After six years in three other places (Karlsruhe, Ross and Antelope Consolidated near Mooreton), we returned to Sykeston in 1957. I graduated from Sykes High in 1958; Mary Ann graduated in 1960.
Dad was again non-renewed in Sykeston at the end of the 1960-61 year, and the family moved to Tolley, where Florence and Frank graduated (1962 and 1963); thence to Tolna, where John graduated in 1966.
The early 1960s seems to have been a stressful community time in Sykeston and this seems to have had some impact on Dad’s employment. I was in college the last three years of their teaching in Sykeston, and almost never came home, so I don’t recall any talk about why the next non-renewal took place.
The Sykeston 1983 Centennial History says the addition to the high school was built in 1959 during Dad’s second four years at Sykeston. This apparently is in error. The addition was built after Bernard’s left in 1961. Assorted stresses may have related to changes at St. Elizabeth’s (the Centennial History says that “the only lay [non-Nun] teacher in the school’s history, was employed in 1961-62″ – a really big deal).
Growth of high school age population due to the post WWII Baby Boom, resulting in the need for a bond referendum to build an addition to the public school was doubtless a major factor as well. Even by then, likely, some elders knew that behind the baby boom was decline. Why build a new school that won’t be necessary in a few years? It would be a reasonable question, just like, these days, a reasonable debate in Sykeston may well be how to treat this venerable old building, essentially unused for the last eight years? It is a difficult question.
One of my siblings recalls that about 1961 the issue of religious tensions loomed a little more important than usual in Sykeston. I don’t know that. Mom and Dad apparently chose to move on rather than challenge the dismissal, as some community members had encouraged.
I spent an entire career in public education and I know that schools are more than anything else cauldrons of relationships, positive and not so positive, and things do happen as school boards change, etc.
It takes a thick skin and luck and lots of political savvy to survive very long as a Superintendent of Schools, given changes in school boards, etc. There are, annually, unpopular decisions to be made. And mistakes are made, too.
In addition to my parents, I had two uncles and three aunts who were teachers, a number of them career, all beginning in North Dakota. The stories of employment instability were all similar. If the annual contract was not renewed for whatever reason, the only choice was to move on. I have said frequently over the years that teachers were truly public Servants (with a capital S). It was just how it was. I don’t think that many community members, anywhere, gave this much of of a thought.
Nonetheless, of all the places that we lived, I think all of we Bernard’s, including our parents, would agree that Sykeston was as close to a home town as we ever had, and we remember it as such.
And that is good!
Have a great reunion and remembering!

Favorite photo of Henry Bernard visiting Sykeston August, 1970

Favorite photo of Henry Bernard visiting Sykeston August, 1970


Related: My story about Sykeston days written in June, 2008 can be viewed here. Also, a post published Friday, May 3, here; and another published Sunday, May 5, which is here. All are related very directly to reminiscing about Sykeston days.
I’m sure the Sykeston Committee would like to hear from you. Here’s the contact page.
Dick with son-in-law and two of nine grandkids, Orlando, March 23, 2013

Dick with son-in-law and two of nine grandkids, Orlando, March 23, 2013

#714 – Dick Bernard: The Youngers restore my hope.

Today was the 10th annual Diversity Day at Jefferson High School in Bloomington MN. I’ve been to the last six. Today did not have the annual outdoor fun-run between Jefferson and rival Kennedy due to inclement weather. Snow in May is not impossible here, but it is unusual. It was unpleasant enough to force most activities indoors, but not enough to dampen spirits.
Being in the presence of enthusiastic kids is like an elixir.
It is nice to see a society of kids at their functional best.
(click on all photos to enlarge)

Rededicating Thomas Jefferson High School as a Peace Site May 3, 2013

Rededicating Thomas Jefferson High School as a Peace Site May 3, 2013


Inside, there was an alternative run around Jefferson’s ample indoor track. Everyone could participate. You can see my the smile on the young lady’s face, that she was glad she could make the rounds with the rest of the students who wished.
A special abilities student participating in the May 3 indoor run.

A special abilities student participating in the May 3 indoor run.


Out in the commons area, 42 student groups sponsored and staffed tables about their particular special interest. Damon Cermak (below) did a more than capable job of representing his Mdewakanton Sioux Indian heritage. Like most young Americans Damon has multiple ethnic heritages. His include Czech and French-Canadian, along with Native American.
Down the commons, another group of students were doing some kind of dance improv, and having a great time, a real credit to their school.
Damon Cermak tells the story of his roots.

Damon Knight tells the story of his roots.


A group of students dance in the commons area.

A group of students dance in the commons area.


Students of French display about things French.

Students of French display about things French.


World Citizen display table.  (peacesites.org)

World Citizen display table. (peacesites.org)


Walking around I came across a table I had not seen in previous years.
White American table

White American table


The table was staffed by a couple of boys, and attracted a fair amount of interest from, as best as I could tell, only other boys who were curious. It was a simple table: an NRA hat, some pictures like Iwo Jima and Ronald Reagan, that sort of thing.
One of the boys had a guitar.
There was a certain irony in this new entry into this years Diversity Days conversation, I thought. Best as I could determine, the table was by and about White American Men, or at least a subset of those men who are angry and terrified of losing control to various “others”, like “minorities”, or “women” or such.
White American Men (I’m one of these) have controlled things so long, that it is hard for some of them to become part of the entire fabric that is contemporary America. This year at Jefferson they seem to have joined the other “minorities” that make up the rich American “stew” – though my guess is they didn’t perceive their new position that way.
But that “White American” table, along with the others representing other cultures and beliefs, was totally in keeping with the rich diversity that is America. White American Men are part of, not dominant over, the rest.
Before leaving I decided to go to the all-school assembly program for Diversity Day.
The speaker was Jane Elliott, 58 years married, wearing a T-shirt she says she always wears while speaking “Prejudice is an emotional commitment to ignorance.”
She’s very well known, for many years, and is a spell-binding and powerful speaker. The assassination of Martin Luther King April 4, 1968, changed her life as a third grade teacher.
A tall white man, school administrator, and a female student of African descent were her “props”, and she used them extremely effectively.
In only a few minutes she powerfully took on and effectively many stereotypes and prejudices we hold dear.
Walking out the door to the parking lot I went past the Peace Pole I had photographed earlier in the day.
The side I photo’ed had “May Peace Prevail on Earth” in Vietnamese.
It all seemed to fit.
Just a couple of days earlier, my friend Lynn Elling, who had earlier talked at the rededication at Jefferson, had returned from a two week trip to Vietnam with the Vietnamese son, Tod, who the Ellings adopted 43 years ago.
Tod is as American as any of us.
Diversity is all of us.
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