#579 – Dick Bernard: Donna Elling

/0 Comments/in , , /by

This afternoon Donna Elling, 88, will be remembered at First Universalist Church in south Minneapolis. We’ll be there, and I expect there’ll be a large crowd. She richly deserves a tribute.
I can’t say I knew Donna well, except through others voices and memories. When I met her and her husband, Lynn, five years ago, her memory was already in decline, but there was no question that she was a classy lady, a partner with her husband since their marriage in 1943, and a loving parent, grand, and great-grandparent.
I got to know Lynn much better than Donna in these past five years. But as I retrace that time, I had many occasions to see Donna. Where Lynn was, so was Donna, always gracious and friendly. Donna was always there, also, in Lynn’s conversation stream. They had a rich 68 years together.
Others can and will relive and recall her long and productive life much better than I.
Some years ago Lynn shared with me his photo album and I made photo copies of some of the pages.
Yesterday, at a meeting, I shared two photo pages of Donna taken from that album. One is below, and both are attached as a pdf Donna Elling 1953001. Appropriately, the magazine is for June 21, the time of the soon-to-occur Summer Solstice.
(click to enlarge photos)
Donna Elling, June 21, 1953 St. Paul Pioneer Press
In my own photo files, there are surprisingly numerous photos of Donna, since where Lynn was, so was Donna to be found.
For her farewell I choose this photo, from September, 2011, at their home in south Minneapolis.

Lynn and Donna Elling, September, 2011


In Peace.
The family has chosen World Citizen, the organization Lynn founded in 1982, as a preferred memorial, and I would ask consideration of Lynn’s ‘driving dream’ which included places (as their home was) as Peace Sites. All information can be found at World Citizen’s website, here.
Do take a look.
Another of Lynn Elling’s passions was the Nobel Peace Prize Festival, now integrated into the Nobel Peace Prize Forum at Augsburg College, Minneapolis MN. One of the last photos I have of Donna and Lynn together was taken at a reception for 1993 co-Nobel Laureate F. W. deKlerk of S. Africa.

from right: Lynn and Donna Elling, F. W. deKlerk, Cathy and Dick Bernard, March 2, 2012


UPDATE June 16, 2012:
Donna had a marvelous celebration of her life on June 13. I’d estimate approximately 300 friends and family attended.
Here’s a great slideshow remembering her life.

Lynn remembers Donna, his spouse of 68 years, at the Memorial Service June 13, 2012

#573 – Dick Bernard: Three Memories on Memorial Day 2012. Frank Peter Bernard, Henry Bernard and Patricia Krom

/5 Comments/in , , , , , , /by

SEVERAL UPDATES, INCLUDING PHOTOS at end of this post.
I’m at the age where death is an increasingly regular visitor to my circles. This Memorial Day three deaths come to mind.
The first came when I was 1 1/2 years old, when my Uncle Frank Peter Bernard went down on the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor HI. He was 26 years old, and I had “met” him in Long Beach CA five months earlier, at the end of June, 1941.
(click on photos to enlarge them)

Henry Sr, Josephine, Josie, Frank Peter, Richard, Henry and Esther Bernard, Long Beach CA late June, 1941


I’m the family historian, and I recall no talk, ever, about any kind of funeral or memorial service for Frank.
He was from Grafton, ND. On Dec. 7, 1941, his brother, my Dad, was a teacher in the rural ND country school called Rutland Consolidated; his sister lived in Los Angeles; and his parents were wintering in Long Beach CA. Indeed, according to my Dad, they were not sure, for some time, whether or not Frank was dead. His good boyhood and Navy friend, John Grabanske, was reported to have died, though later was found to be very much alive (and lived on, well into his 80s). Here’s my Dad’s recollection, as recounted by myself 50 years after Pearl Harbor: Bernard H Pearl Harbor001
The closest I have to a “memory card” about a formal remembering of Uncle Frank is a long article in the February 17, 1942 Grand Forks (ND) Herald, reporting on a large ND picnic somewhere in the Los Angeles area on about February 12, 1942. Such picnics were common in those days – a gathering of winterers and transplants.
There is a poignant passage which I quote here in part: “A touching incident occurred during the program. [The counsel for the Republic of Poland in Los Angeles] read a press report telling of the death of a young man of Polish descent at Pearl Harbor, the young man being a native of the Grafton area. When he had finished reading a man and his wife arose in the audience, the man asking if he might interrupt for just a moment…the man [my grandfather] said the report of the boy’s death later was found to be in error, but that the man actually killed at Pearl Harbor was the pal of the boy mentioned in the first press report. “The boy killed,” said the man, “was our son!”…The entire audience arose and stood in silence for a moment in honor of the dead hero and the parents who made the sacrifice.”
Uncle Frank’s grave, on the USS Arizona, is probably among the most visited cemeteries in the world. I know his sister, my Aunt Josie, visited there in 1969, but my Dad and his parents never had that opportunity.
The next funeral I remember is for that same Grandfather of mine, who died May 23, 1957 at age 85. I was 17.
His funeral was in Grafton, on May 25, 1957, and many people came to his funeral.
Grandpa was a Spanish-American War Veteran, Philippines, 1898-99. We still have the flag in recognition of his service.
It has 48 stars. Alaska and Hawaii had not yet been admitted as states. It is the flag we raised on a flagpole the family purchased at Our Lady of the Snows, Belleville IL, after Dad died in 1997. We raised the flag on Memorial Day, 1998, dedicating it to Grandpa’s sons, my Dad and Uncle Frank. (Here’s an interesting piece of research about percent of Americans who actually serve in the Military)

Dedication of flagpole with Grandpa Bernards 48 star flag, Memorial Day, 1998, Our Lady of the Snows, Belleville IL


Plaque for the Our Lady of the Snows flagpole, 1998


Time passes on, many more deaths and remembrances of all assorted kinds.
The most recent came on May 19, 2012, in Langdon ND, a memorial service for my cousin Patricia (Brehmer) Krom. Pat actually passed away in Las Vegas on January 25, and there was a memorial service there at that time, but the Langdon area was her home, and my Uncle Vince and I went up for the Memorial Service.
All funerals are alike; all funerals are very different. Pat’s was no exception.
I doubt I will ever forget the eulogy at Pat’s Memorial, given by her husband of 42 years, Kent.
He retraced two lives together in a truly memorable way, one which any one in any relationship for any length of time could immediately relate to; from the first awkward dance at Langdon High School, to her death at only 62 years of age.

Pat Brehmer Krom's life, May 19, 2012


The details are unimportant, except for one which I will always remember. As I recall it, regardless of how their day might have gone, it was a frequent occurrence for exchange of a simple expression of affection: “I love you Kent Krom”; “I love you Pat Brehmer”.
Can’t get better than that.
Arriving back in LaMoure, before I left for home, I picked up a new flag for the flagpole at Vince and Edith’s residence, Rosewood Care Center.
Friday, May 25, at 10:30, they dedicated the new flag to the memory of Patricia Brehmer Krom.
Happy Memorial Day.

Spring at Redeemer Cemetery near Dresden ND May 19, 2012 near the grave of Mary and Allen Brehmer


UPDATES:
Memorial Day, which began as Decoration Day in post-Civil War times, has a long history. Ironically, it was born of what was likely America’s deadliest war ever (in terms of casualties related to the entire population). Americans slaughtered other Americans.
Here are some impressions of today received from individuals. Possibly because the day has an over 140 year history, and because the means of war has changed so much in recent years, making war almost impersonal (see the Pew Research above), there are differing interpretations of what Memorial Day means: is it an event to be solemnly remembered, enjoyed, celebrated, etc.?
How we look differently at the meaning of Memorial Day is good reason for increased conversation among people with differing points of view.
From Susan Lucas: Dick, at the end of your blog you say, “Happy Memorial Day.” I’m afraid I don’t find this day a happy one. The three flags represent our three sons. I’m just so sorry that so many in our society regard Memorial Day as the first day of summer and a three-day weekend to go to the cabin. Anyone who visits Fort Snelling or any other national cemetery can truly appreciate why we have a Memorial Day. While Tom did not die while actually in the service, as the original “Decoration Day” was meant to be, the day should honor all who have been in military service. It’s a day to honor their memory. I question whether it should still be a national holiday when, as Pew Research suggests, so few families are actually impacted by military service anymore.

May 27, 2012, at Ft. Snelling Cemetery from Susan Lucas


From Carol Turnbull: Beautiful!
Scouts observing Memorial Day at a Cemetery in South St. Paul MN, doing upkeep of graves, and placing flags at the stones of veterans.

Scouts at So St Paul cemetery May 28, 2012


Daughter Heather and granddaughter Kelly at grave of Mom and Grandma Diane in So. St. Paul May 28, 2012


The annual commemoration by the MN Veterans for Peace at the State Capitol Grounds, St. Paul MN. Many Vets for Peace, but no means all, are Vietnam Veterans. I have been part of Veterans for Peace for over 10 years.

Veterans for Peace near MN Vietnam Vets Memorial on the MN Capitol Grounds May 28, 2012


Local VFP President Larry Johnson at the MN Capitol area observance May 28


Gita Ghei, whose father was caught in the conflict in western India (a civil war of sorts) at the time the British transferred authority to Indians.


Vet Jerry Rau performs a composition on May 28


Commentary here from Digby related to a Veterans for Peace event in southern California.
Other commentaries on the label “hero” as a topic of contemporary political warfare are here and here.
Of course, such a term is a moving target. In the 2004 Presidential Election, candidate John Kerry, whose military service and heroism in Vietnam was ridiculed by “Swift Boating” negative ads, was made to seem the opposite of what he was: a serviceman who had done his job above and beyond the call of duty. I agree with the assessment that the word “hero” is often misapplied in todays political conversation. Personally, I’m a lucky Vietnam era veteran. I served during the first Vietnam War years 50 years ago, and can prove it. I did everything I was asked to do, and I never left the United States. Indeed, we were preparing a reactivated infantry division for later combat in Vietnam, but in our frame of the time, we had no idea that such a war was developing. We simply did our jobs. If that is heroism, so be it.
But, then, John Kerry was far more a hero than I every thought of being, and he was viciously ridiculed for his service….
President Obama spoke at the Vietnam Memorial on Monday. I had the lucky privilege of having been at that Memorial the very weekend it was dedicated in the Fall of 1982. Vietnam Mem DC 1982001
A little photo album of my service time as a “hero” at Ft. Carson CO can be found on the internet, here. Note my name in the first paragraph, click on the link to the album, and open the link to a few of my “Photographs of 1/61….” in 1962-63.

#570 – Dick Bernard: Election 2012 #17. A Funeral

/0 Comments/in , , , , , , /by

A couple of weeks ago I attended the memorial service for a former colleague of mine. He was 78 when he died, and the memorial service was in a small city outside the twin cities area.
John had been my colleague for 24 years. I didn’t know him well, as we were among about 40 staff people in a state-wide organization, and other than relatively frequent staff-meetings, he & I didn’t have any day to day relationship. He was from another part of the state. But we were part of the same staff group and saw each other frequently.
John’s was an open casket funeral. We were there, family and friends and colleagues. A Methodist minister officiated.
(click on photos to enlarge)


We’d seen the obituary before the funeral, and it mentioned John’s “significant other for 37 years, Oliver…”
I asked our colleague who I was riding with, “was John Gay?” Yes. Obviously he was. I’d never noticed anything. He was simply ‘staff’ like me.
With John’s casket was a military-folded American flag, recognizing his military service. He’d been a Marine in the Korean War years. For nine years he had been a public school teacher before he was a union representative.
I’d guess there were about 30 of us at the service, mostly family members.
It was a very nice send off for John.
I noticed in the obit that while John grew up and went to college in Iowa, and had lived for almost all of his work life in Minnesota, that his burial was to be in a rural Norwegian cemetery in eastern North Dakota.
As is my tendency, I asked a stupid question of Oliver, his partner: “why is the burial to be in North Dakota?”
Oliver replied politely that the cemetery was his families cemetery, and he and John had bought adjoining plots some years earlier. It was a matter of fact answer. I felt foolish.
They’d loved each other for 37 years, why wouldn’t they want to be buried together?
John’s funeral occurred at the very time when the issue of Gay relationships is under the spotlight in the United States. In the last few days President Obama has weighed in, powerfully, on the issue; and North Carolina has enshrined anti-Gay marriage language in their State Constitution.
Such a matter is pending in Minnesota in the Fall election as well, and politically savvy people are calling the Gay issue a wedge issue….
As the casket was about to be closed, Oliver said the final goodbye to his partner. I don’t recall ever seeing such a tender farewell from one to another. It was a gentle, powerful moment.
Perhaps, just perhaps, John’s death on April 29, might be part of the death of the anti-Gay hate campaign that has been so useful to so many for so long.
One can hope.
TWO VIGNETTES plus two other points:
1. My Aunt Jean passed away in 1994, and I volunteered to give my friend, Fr. Paul, a ride to the memorial service.
Paul had married Uncle George and Aunt Jean in 1944, and had baptized me in 1940. In his later years, he and I had become good friends.
During the long drive from his home to the place of the memorial service, Paul began to reminisce about his growing up, seminary, and his many years in the Priesthood in North Dakota. By all accounts, he was a very faithful Priest, a very good man. We talked about many things: about the loneliness and isolation of his profession, and of how he and his colleague Priests coped, and of occasional serious lapses. Priests are human, after all. He allowed me to tape his reminiscences.
There was only one point at which he became visibly agitated about anything, and that was when he talked about homosexual relationships. “I just don’t understand that”, he said. And on we went.
It has occurred to me that it was not homosexuality of someone else that was Paul’s problem; it was Paul’s unwillingness to understand it that was his own perception problem. So it goes for those who rail against it. It is not a religious issue so much as it is an understanding issue.
2. The Catholic Church hierarchy (happens to be my church too) is in the forefront of the marriage/man/woman campaign. It is not quite as simple as the Bishops and Cardinals ‘teach’.
I have the marriage contract of my first Bernard ancestor in Quebec in the year 1730 (in its entirety here: Quebec Marriage Cont001)
The document speaks for itself. Quebec was a Catholic country: non-Catholics were not welcome. So this civil contract did in fact require marriage in the Catholic Church. But the civil contract was entered into two weeks before the religious marriage, and they were separate and distinct entities. Even in an all Catholic country, there was separation between Church and State. In the Bernard-Giroux case, the marriage in the church happened two weeks after the civil contract of marriage. Would there have been a valid civil marriage if one or the other of the couple died before the religious bans? Doubtless that happened more than once.
3. I keep thinking of my classmate, Jerry, who died in 1993. We were simply classmates in a tiny school (senior class of nine) and it wasn’t till years later that I learned he was Gay, from his Aunt. Recently I googled his name, and up came a short obituary of him. It would seem appropriate to add this web reference to Jerry, which speaks well for itself. I particularly note the anonymity of the two brief tributes. That is how it has been, to be Gay in our society.
4. A longer summary of the current political conversation about the Gay Marriage issue is here.

#569 – Dick Bernard: Mother's Day 2012. "A woman's work is never done"

/0 Comments/in , , , , /by

Happy Mother’s Day.
This phrase, (link) “A woman’s work is never done”, keeps rattling through my brain. (The link is an interesting compilation about “woman’s work”.)
There are infinite variations to the theme, “Mother’s Day”. For us, one event will be the always fascinating May Day Parade in south Minneapolis (this years version was postponed due to weather.)
Two recent events lead to this days post.
May 9 I rendezvoused in Sioux Falls SD with my friend from 8th grade, Emmett. Emmett and I have been “Christmas card friends” over the many years since we first met in 1953-54 in western North Dakota. Because he lived on the west coast, and I in Minnesota’s Twin Cities There were rare “faceoffs” (as my Dad would describe face-to-face meetings). I recall brief ‘faceoffs’ between Emmett and I in 1958, 1997 and 2007. That’s about it.
This time a wedding in Emmett’s family in Sioux Falls gave a good excuse for my 250 mile trip west, and the two of us had a great conversation, just “catching up”.
We met in 8th grade, the only year we lived in his tiny town of Ross ND. He was a farm kid, and I the oldest son of two teachers in the tiny town school.
My Mom, then 44, was our teacher in the 7th and 8th grade room. Her son, my brother John, then 5 years old (there was no kindergarten in these tiny schools), spent his school days in our classroom.
click on photo to enlarge

Esther and Henry Bernard at the Ross Prom, 1954


May 9 and 10 Emmett and I had maybe five hours to ‘catch up’ and he told a simple story, a memorable one which seems to fit Mother’s Day.
When he was a kid he had a great interest in airplanes, and one day he happened to see a wing of something protruding out of a bag he probably wasn’t supposed to see. It was a model of a B-17, an important aircraft in WWII, planned as a gift to him.
Somebody had noticed Emmett’s interest, and paid attention to it, and the gift became part of his life memory bank, and possibly a motivator as well.
It was a single item, a single event, but Emmett went on to become an aeronautical engineer and a very successful one.
I don’t have a lot of memories of my Mom as my classroom teacher, and likely Emmett didn’t have either. But as generations of students know, good teachers are best at helping students become functioning and aware adults…and I think both Mom and Dad succeeded at that, and not only with me. Life lessons from our elders are very often doled out in ‘bits and pieces’, most held below the conscious level. Memories that stick.
The second event impacting today happened several weeks earlier when I received an invitation to a reading of a new book by the author, Annetta Sanow Sutton.
Annetta is someone I’ve known for over 25 years, but I can recall only twice actually seeing her in person in all those years.
I went to her reading, and bought the book, and read it: Catholic Alcoholic, A Witness to Addiction and Redemption. (No, it’s not just for Catholics….)
The title is serious, but it is a memoir, and I found it to leave openings to reflect on my own life experience within my own family. While it was a mother’s story, a sister’s, a daughters, a niece’s…it left plenty of room for reflection for me.

One reunion with an old classmate, male, and another, a reading of a book by a career professional in counseling, female, brought me some new insights into the many and diverse ways women – mothers – live on in all of us.
My own Mom died 31 years ago, at my current age, so I think of the moving on of life more so than usual this year.
None of us is perfect. The best we can do is to contribute at least a little to the betterment of our communities, families and world.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Yes, “A woman’s work is never done.”

The falls of the Sioux River at Sioux Falls, SD, May 9, 2012


UPDATE May 16, 2012:
Will, on May 13, responded to this post as follows:
It is among the least politcally correct things to say on Mother’s Day but there are a number of us who were tormented and some who even required mental health care for years because of mothers who, for one reason or another, made our young lives miserable.
I believe it was the writer Philip (sp?) Wylie who wrote about “Momism,” the dark side of motherhood.
When I visit the family burial plot at the Jewish cemetery at 70 1/2 St. and Penn Av. S. Richfield, MN it is decidely with mixed emotions for both my late mother and father.
How to prepare young people for parenthood should be part of the education curriculum, in my opinion.
What do you-all think?
Dick, in response: Will’s is a valid point. Not all mothering…or fathering, for that matter…experiences are all that positive.
Speaking for myself, I was Mom, and Dad, for nearly nine years to first an infant, then, later, to a teenager, my son. I can say, I guess, “been there, done that”. It wasn’t an easy task single, nor married. People have differing skills, priorities and demands. You only hope that in the end things turn out for the best. There is a great deal more to my story, which my family could tell very well. Suffice to say, I understand Will’s lament.
Annetta Sutton in her excellent book, Catholic Alcoholic (see above), makes comments on this issue within her own family.
I noted on Sunday at Basilica of St. Mary that there was a different emphasis in the traditional end-of-Mass blessing for Mothers. This Sunday, the Priest asked all women to stand, and blessed them all, acknowledging that “mother” is a much broader term than simply having given birth. It was handled very well, and I think the congregation was pleased.

#561 – Dick Bernard: Heather, an exceptional citizen and contributor to society

/0 Comments/in , , , /by

Back on April 1, my daughter Joni sent me an iPhone photo of her sister (and my daughter) Heather.
(click on photos to enlarge)

Heather at the Park, April 1, 2012


Yesterday Heather and I went bowling. We did two lines. She got a strike on her first frame. She won the first line, I won the second. No need to do the third (or for you to know the score, either!) Suffice to say that I didn’t take a dive to lose, and she didn’t cheat to win. It was all fair and square on Lane 11 at Mattie’s Lanes in South St. Paul MN. We were the only folks in the place. It was fun.
Today* Heather is having a new Pacemaker installed at Children’s Hospital in Minneapolis. She has lived with a Pacemaker for over 30 of her 36 years. This makes her a pretty exceptional individual in the realm of pacemaker survival rates, I’m told.
Heather, Down Syndrome, has seen a lot of life in her 36 years.
And she’s brought a lot of joy to a lot of lives in those years. Kids like her with exceptional abilities can and do have that affect on people who know them. Those with special abilities look at life a bit differently than we so-called ‘normals’.
When I was young, kids like Heather were people nobody knew much what to do with.
I remember Johnny in a tiny town in which I lived for several years. He was, they would likely say, retarded, or some less polite word: moron, idiot, imbecile…. He was older than we younger kids, and he lived at home. We’d taunt him in the assorted ways kids can, and sooner or later he’d get very angry, and because he was so big he could be dangerous.
We’d run, and he’d go home, and the next day he’d be back.
No special education in those days.
My grandparents lived in the town that had what they used to call the “State School for the Feeble Minded”, and in those years, while awareness was beginning to raise (this was in the 1940s), these folks were warehoused and when we came to visit, and went to the local park, we went by the school and on a summer day they were warehoused behind a fence, sort of like animals in a zoo, no deal differentiation that I knew of.
Things have changed now, of course, and kids like Heather in all their exceptionalness add richness to many lives, not to mention aiding the economy of which they are a part in many different ways.
Heather spends her weekdays at Proact Inc, an extraordinary partnership in Eagan MN. Earlier this week I took her there, and she was proudly wearing her Twins shirt.

Heather at Proact April 24, 2012


The technology she’ll have implanted today is a far cry from the technology of over 30 years ago. In those years, the Pacemaker had one heart rate; the current technology allows Heather to do things unimaginable in those early years, such as playing softball in a Special Olympics league called RAVE in which parents and others give and receive the joy of participation.
I can put Heather in the middle of many “circles”.
To each, she brings more gifts than she takes.

Dad and Heather October 1, 2010


Sisters, Heather, Lauri & Joni, April 26, 2012


For other postings about Heather, simply enter the word in the search box.
* PS: The procedure went well. She’ll be home tomorrow.

#560 – Dick Bernard: The Chicks

/0 Comments/in , , /by

Saturday morning a few of us were waiting in line at the Woodbury Post Office. A woman was waiting at the counter, and the clerk had disappeared. An educated guess was that the woman was picking up held mail.
Of course, the few of us were feeling impatient – places to go, things to do….
Presently the clerk came out with a box from which sounds came: “Peep”, “Peep”, “Peep”…. It was a delivery of live chicks.
Immediately the sourness in line changed perceptibly.
There was no grousing when the clerk opened the box so that the woman could inspect the precious freight. They were all okay, being as little chicks are wont to be.
This started a little conversation in line, remembering when people raised chickens. Somebody said that an ordinance had been passed in Woodbury allowing such activities. NO ROOSTERS, however!
I got to thinking back to days of old when we lived in tiny towns in North Dakota. In fact, I had done a blog post about the post office in one of those towns a few months ago.
Someone I knew from that town wrote a comment. Her Dad had been a rural postal delivery driver for years, and she said this, in part: “In the spring, he often had live baby chicks making lots of noise in the back of the vehicle. That meant going up to the houses to deliver them. There were also times when the post office was alive with the sounds of live animals.”
In the same comment she added what we of a certain age and circumstance all know about the post office in small towns: “The post office was definitely a social gathering place when many people waited for the mail to be sorted to the various boxes. There was no delivery in small towns – perhaps there never has been. You often read that people fight to keep their post office as it is a distinction to have ones own address and a time/place to find out how your neighbors were doing.”

Early 1900s postcard from rural Wisconsin to rural North Dakota


I don’t think I was the only one in the line on Saturday who noticed that when those chicks appeared, the tone of conversation of those of us in the line perceptibly changed.
For just a moment we again became neighbors, not quite so much in a hurry.
I’ll remember the care with which the woman and the clerk handled their precious cargo.

Woodbury MN Post Office April 21, 2012


UPDATE April 24: Here’s a little known but crucial piece of information about the contemporary “problems” of the U.S. Postal Service.

#542 – Dick Bernard: Sunday noon Mass at St. Boniface, Minnepolis. Messe en Francais

/0 Comments/in , /by

We went to a most uplifting Catholic Mass today.

Noon Mass at St. Boniface Sunday March 25, 2012


If one went by this photo from the choir loft at the beautiful Church of St. Boniface on Sunday, the Church was nearly empty. It is, after all a large church. (click to enlarge the photos)
But if you could add sound, and be sitting up somewhere closer to the front, your ‘picture’ of this place would be much different.
St. Boniface was very much alive on Sunday noon, as I am sure it is alive every Sunday noon, for the weekly Mass in the French language.
By my count, there were 62 of us in the Congregation, all but five of us Africans whose native land is one or another of the west African countries whose formal language is French. Fr. Jules Omalanga, a most engaging Pastor, is a native of Kinshasa Congo,and Pastor of the Church, and every week at noon has a liturgy for a lively community of Francophones.
Doubtless, a person wandering in off the street would probably be a bit confused to see African people speaking French in this church! It reminded me of a similar experience in 1971 when we took a weekend trip from Oregon to Vancouver British Columbia and stopped for Mass at the first Catholic Church we saw. The church was full of Vietnamese, all speaking French…. Another learning.
(I am French-Canadian through my father, but I was never exposed to the French language as a child, and never was in a place where I could take French in school years. So while I can ‘get the drift’, my participation is more or less following along with the rest of the group. I know when the pastor makes a good humored comment by the laughter, and follow along…. Of course, my computer does not speak French either, so I cannot put that peculiar little squiggle under the “c” in “Francais”, but that is only a small indignity to the language.)
To the right in the photo was a lively and good choir of parishioners. These were adults, men and women, not afraid to sing!

The Choir


St. Boniface is a very old parish, dating back to 1858, the year Minnesota became a state. Its history is here.
Like all parishes of any denomination, the years for ethnic parishes have passed on, and diminishing population have led to many church closings. St. Boniface retains some real and readily apparent vibrancy. It is a beautiful structure, and its weekly African visitors bring a particular richness to its sanctuary. (Its address is 679 NE 2nd Street in near northeast Minneapolis.)
We were at this particular Mass at the invitation of Fr. Jules and Dr. Virgil Benoit, who is planning a major Francophone event in Minneapolis September 28 (at Our Lady of Lourdes and DeLaSalle High School – stay tuned for details. Announcements will be here and elsewhere. It promises to be a stellar event, involving people such as the Africans in attendance on Sunday; locals of French-Canadian ancestry; teachers of the French language; people that love the French language, etc., etc., etc.
Mass – Messe – concluded, Fr. Omalanga walked down the center aisle, holding hands with what seemed like a dozen adoring kids. I thought back to a similar experience at Ste Clare church in Port-au-Prince Haiti, when Father Gerard Jean-Juste had a similar devoted following from his Haitian congregation. One could feel the love.
After Mass Dr. Benoit and two of his African colleagues, both doctoral students at the University of North Dakota, spoke with those interested about the September program.
It was a very good day, indeed.

Fr. Omalanga and children process out after Mass


In front, from left, Moussa Nombre, Amoussa Koriko and Virgil Benoit are introduced to persons interested in the September 28-29 event.


Fr. Gerard Jean-Juste, Ste Clare Port-au-Prince Haiti December 3, 2003

#537 – Dick Bernard: Spring "Yard Work"

/0 Comments/in , , , , /by

Today, being a late April day (albeit in the middle of March), with all the snow gone, a short sleeve day and all, seemed a good day to begin the annual housekeeping trek along my walking route which ends on the north side of Carver Lake.
Helpfully, one of those small plastic buckets, about a half-gallon in size, materialized near the beginning of the walking route. In its previous life it probably held a plant. Perhaps it had blown off someone’s deck. Whatever, it was useful. (Actually, it had sat there for several prior days, but the time was not yet right to pick it up.)
Today was the day it would be of service to the community.
Our walking route is pretty clean. There is a small crew of people – mostly unknown to each other – who do “police call”.
Still, the first post-snow day out yields its share of treasures, mostly off the beaten path.
For instance, a bright piece of paper beckoned me into the off-trail woods, and when there I spotted three old and gray beer bottles, well disguised from many moons of anonymous living.
Along the way I was fetching something in the weeds and I met a guy who noticed, and groused about those people who toss stuff “when there are all sorts of garbage cans along this walk”. So true. I subscribe to the philosophy, though, that left garbage along the path is a magnet for more garbage, and policing helps keep down careless disposal of anything from cigarette buttes to tissue. Every little bit helps….
At the bench where I learned, a couple of years ago, that it is important to carry along one’s cell phone – it might come in handy – I met the pleasant guy I see frequently, pushing his Dad in his wheelchair for a walk in the park. We chatted a bit, and he commented that he’d filled two bags full of trash this same morning.
He usually does policing of the pond and lake banks, but he doesn’t sound quite as enthusiastic about doing it this year. Too big a mess. Maybe some of us will “step up to the plate” and help?
Past Carver Lake swimming beach and up the hill I went. A one liter plastic pop bottle beckoned, and when I got to it, assorted other trash magically appeared in its neighborhood. I was rapidly filling that little bucket a second time.
At the playground, a Dad was supervising playtime for his two year old. The youngster saw me dumping the garbage, and the Dad said “thanks”.
It was a good day on the trail today.
Have a great one yourself.

#533 – Dick Bernard: A Picture from the past, remembering Louis H. Bruhn

/0 Comments/in , , , , /by

See Update from Carl Peter at end of this post.
Going through some old photographs recently I came across this one of Louis Bruhn, taken by my father in May, 1974, at a Valley City State Teachers College alumni gathering in Anoka, Minnesota. (click to enlarge).
Louis H. Bruhn at Valley City State Teachers College Alumni function in Anoka MN May, 1974.
I lived in rural Anoka at the time, and I remember my parents visit but not this specific event, though I’m sure I was there.
Both of my parents were graduates of what we called, then, VCSTC, Valley City State Teachers College. I graduated from there myself. Just this morning I mailed my annual small donation to the now-VCSU Foundation. A pleasant sounding student called me a few nights ago just to renew my acquaintance with my alma mater.
Colleges know how to keep in touch with their alumni!
Mr. Bruhn – that’s what we all would have called him – was Dean of Men and Director of Special Services at the tiny 700 or so student college in 1958-61 when I was a student there.

Two very important mentors: Lou Bruhn, and Mary Hagen Canine, pictured in the 1959 Viking Annual of Valley City State Teachers College


He seemed terribly old at the time, but through the miracle of the internet (which he could not have imagined then), he was apparently only 55 when I first darkened the college doors in the Summer of 1958. Here’s what someone wrote about him in 1976.
He was 71 when Dad took the above photo. GASP. That’s how old I am, now!
The bio says that Mr. Bruhn came to VCSTC in 1938 to teach Business courses.
My parents, Henry L. Bernard of Grafton and Esther Busch of rural Berlin, had both matriculated at the college, probably in the summer of 1929, and like legions of country school teachers of the time they would teach school during the school year, then come back to college in the summer. They are both long deceased, but left behind many stories. They met in the halls of VCSTC, married in 1937, then taught together at Amidon ND during 1937-39. Most likely they were back at Valley City in the Summer of 1938 when Mr. Bruhn arrived.
During 1939-40 Dad became a full-time, full-year student at the college – the only full year he ever spent in college – and he received his degree a few weeks after I was born. They lived, that year, in the McGillivray Apartments just off campus, right behind what became Cinks College Grocery (and what is now the Valley City State University Student Center – which was actively being planned in 1961). For over 30 more years they remained in public education, Mom taking a few years off to raise us younguns to school age.
Dad most likely got to know Mr. Bruhn fairly well. They were, after all, about the same age. Eighteen years later, in 1958, it was my turn to do something with my life after graduating from Sykeston High School.
Truth be told, for this lazy kid in the summer of 1958, college summer school looked far better to me than wrestling a wheelbarrow full of dirt at the under construction St. Elizabeth’s Church in Sykeston. So, off I went. My mother went as well, to Summer School.
College caught on, and I went straight through, graduating 50 years ago last December. Those were memorable years.
Small colleges like VCSTC certainly don’t have the reputation of big or prestigious institutions, but I’m here to say, loudly and proudly, that with folks around like Louis H. Bruhn, we country kids from tiny high schools not only got a solid college education, but we left well prepared for life, accompanied by a strong work ethic.
The biography does not list a date of death for Mr. Bruhn, though I’d doubt he’s still with us. Doubtless someone will let me know details posthaste (you can comment on this post – see tab below).
Thanks Mr. Bruhn, Mom, Dad, and everyone who saw me and legions of fellow students through the growing experience from post high-school to college graduation.
Thanks once again.
from Shirley Bruhn Lindsay (Lou and Mabel Bruhns daughter, received Mar. 9, 2012): It is with an overflowing heart that I reply to you re the messages about my dad, Lou Bruhn. It is such a lovely tribute to him – a man who loved people (especially the students) and the town of Valley City more than he could ever really express. He served on the City Commission for several years and ultimately served as Mayor. A fond memory for our family is of the “Lou Bruhn Day” the city declared when he retired as Mayor.
My dad died late October 1988. He and my mother, Mabel, moved to the Sheyenne Care Center (SCC) several years earlier after she suffered a severe stroke. They had a wonderful quality of life in SCC and continued their enjoyment of people in the town they both loved.
Thank you for these tributes and memories. I have shared them with my brother Dave’s family.
My parents moved to VC in 1938 to “try it out for a few years”…they never left. Isn’t that a tribute to the town and state of North Dakota?
UPDATES: MARCH 8
From Valley City State University Alumni Association via Facebook: Dick – thank you for sharing this post. We enjoyed reading it. Looking at our records it looks like Lou passed away in the late 80’s.
Bob Zimmerman, Fayetteville AR: It’s good to hear from you again, Dick! It’s okay if you and others want to send e-mail to me at: BobzATuark.edu. Lois Nunn Zimmerman and I willl be married 50 years on June 3, 2012. We [recently] were vacationing at South Padre Island, TX. I met Myron (Ike) Luttschwager there for lunch. I will be retiring from my position as Associate Vice Chancellor for IT at the University of Arkansas on June 30, 2012. We hope to spend some time in SD, ND, and MN this summer. Best wisher to all! Lois and Bob
I had a recent letter from Bob and Marge Nutz Sogn. Bob and Marge Sogn sent pictures with David Thielman and his new wife. The Sogns live in Tuscon, AZ. Dave lives in Palm Springs, CA, in the winter. I have not seen Dave and Bob for many years and I hope to find them and some other long lost pals again. Bob
Lois and I had a conversation with Bob and Deann Horne about a month ago. They have moved to Fargo from Minot. Their home in Minot was severely damaged by the floods in Minot. We will visit my brother, Allan Zimmerman and his wife, Carol Schmidtz Zimmerman in Fargo. Buddy Schmidtz is a brother to Carol.
Duane Zwinger, Carrington, class of ’64: It was sure enjoyable reading your recollections about VCSTC and “Mr. Bruhn”. I truly agree with your statement that “tiny” Valley City State Teachers College
gave us all a great start in making our small mark on this great big world. The email also brought back some memories of myself and some of my hooligan buddies having a “close encounter” with Mr. Bruhn. We really didn’t mean to get into trouble, but it did seem to find us.

Duane Zwinger and Dick Bernard, February 2012, at Woodbury MN


Darryl Pederson, Lincoln NE: Got your email. I remember the dean well. He was also a sought after square dance caller. One cold winter evening he called a square dance in my home town of Kathryn. When the dance was over there was a full blown blizzard outside Some of the dancers and Lou Bruhn came to my parents store (we lived in the back) and the square dance continued in the store. As I recalled all spent most if not all of the night with us.
Larry Gauper, Fargo ND: Dick…YES…I remember Lou Bruhn…one of those classic Valley City college names
Wes Anderson, Valley City ND: We have about three audio interviews with Lou in our collection from Don Welch
Colleen Zick: I don’t know if you knew, but he also repaired bicycles. He made mine like new! I remember him and his wife well. Thelma Acker lived right next door to him, and she always cut and permed my hair! Her daughter married Eldwin VanBruggen, Gladys’s brother. The VanBruggens were my next door neighbors.
Larry Gauper: I remember that…and I think he was a ham radio guy too..not sure about that…but do remember now that you mention it the bike repair thing….neat fellow and apparently a great teacher.
Bob Horne, Fargo: Thanks for the Photo of Lou Bruhn, your excellent comments, and ideas added by others.
We remember Mr. Bruhn with fondness; he was a great guy and a friend to students. Also, I knew his son David quite well, as I believe we played Legion baseball together the summer of 1953, between my freshman and sophomore HS years. That summer I stayed with my aunt, Charlotte Graichen, before returning to Edmore HS. You probably know that Charlotte taught at VC State for about 30 years; they named the women’s gym after her. Charlotte and Bill Osmon were long-time leaders of women’s and men’s athletics at VC State Teachers College.
Dick Bernard: The phrase “comfortable as an old shoe” now comes to mind with respect to Mr. Bruhn – but make no mistake, he was MR. Bruhn. As for Charlotte Graichen and Willis Osmon, I came to VCSTC with the idea that basketball would be fun. Things change. I’m guessing that one of the last credits on my transcript was for some required PE class I had neglected to take, and Ms. Graichen was the instructor at the women’s gym. In the spring of 1961, they were just completing the impressive athletic building just west of the campus, I think still named for Mr. Osmon, and I think I’ll dig out my old set of Viking News and scan the photo of me with the under-construction building.
Roger Taylor: I remember Lou Bruhn well. The Bruhn family lived across the street from my childhood home. He did repair bicycles, but not mine, my dad did that. They had a post at the end of their driveway on which they’d installed a backboard and hoop. It was one of the several hoops in our neighborhood which we used, probably the best as the hoop was regulation height and the playing area was flat (most driveways had slants which meant the basket had varying heights relative to the player’s position on the “court”). The Bruhns had two children I remember, a girl named “Shirley” and a boy whose name I don’t remember. They were at least four years older than we. The article also references Cink’s grocery store. That’s another place in which I spent a fair amount of time. But it wasn’t our primary local grocery. That one was on College Street about four doors down from the Bruhn home.
UPDATE March 9, 2012
Dick Bernard: This link Viking News Jul 61 Union001, from the July 5, 1961 Viking News (the college newspaper) shows the site of the to-be college Student Union, including part of Cink’s grocery, and the still under construction Physical Education building which was, in 1961, ‘state of the art’. In the photo, I’m the guy standing by the support beam. For some reason related to the times, I dressed up for the photo.
Ron Morsch: Boy, that’s a name out of the past. I knew the name right away, could faintly picture who it was but even after reading Dick’s post couldn’t recall anything specific. I think Beth is right about Kiwanis or maybe Elks or Toastmasters. My dad was active in them and maybe that’s why I know the name. The bicycle repair stuff also prompted a faint memory of my Dad and me being in his garage having something done to my bike, but I’m not sure.
Barb Lang: Mr. Bruhn’s daughter Shirley is living in Lake Forest, IL and my sister Mary sees her every now and then for coffee. Mary also thinks that possibly Mr. Bruhn was Mayor at some point . . .that’s her vague recollection! Mary notes that Shirley has a Facebook page (my sister is a big looker at Facebook).
Rhea Mills: Has been interesting listening to all the other comments on Mr. Bruhn. Having lived on the “north” side of the tracks, there are a lot of things I had never heard of that occurred on the “south” side of the tracks. I know a lot of names but I really can’t remember things about those names – if, indeed, I even knew those things in the first place – HMMMMM, that is one run on sentence that really doesn’t make much sense except to myself!
Dick Bernard: Of course, in Valley City, at that time, when you’d say “north side of the tracks”, the question would have to be “which tracks?” North of the Hiline, or north of the tracks downtown (or uptown? : – ) NP or Soo Line, or whatever the two railroads were. (My parents did the walk across the Hiline in the 1930s, I think. I never dared.)
I was born at Mercy Hospital in May, 1940, and probably lived in the very tiny McGillivray apartment (Dad once showed it to me – it was vacant at the time, basement, the side away from the college) for perhaps a month or two, then we moved to Rutland area.
I didn’t own or have access to a car during the college years. My ‘territory’ was virtually 100% walking. Farthest north was to St. Cate’s for church on Sunday. Otherwise downtown to Pillar or Omwick where I worked; or Mythaler Hall to the halls of STC…. An aunt and uncle lived in the St. Mary’s of Dazey community but it was real rare to see them out there. The first ND section of I-94 was built between Jamestown and Valley City during the time I was there – “a million dollars a mile” they said. My family lived in Sykeston, northwest of Jamestown, and while I seldom went back there once I started, I can remember driving that freeway including a portion that did not yet have completed shoulders.
The STC of my memory was something like an ant hill, full of activity and a community unto itself, small as it was. Having graduated with 9 colleague seniors, and gone to several other ND public schools which were even smaller, the college was immense. My roommate for three years at Mythaler, a kid from Wimbledon, is a retired teacher in a city high school in St. Paul, and he once told me that for we tiny town kids, VCSTC was much like high school experience for kids in much bigger towns (including Valley City). We came from places that might have three high school teachers, at most, and we got the basics: “Reading, ‘Ritin, ‘Rithmetic” and the occasional ‘hickory stick’ (a”likkin”). Having said that, those tiny towns, and that small college, turned out some tremendous folks who did something with their lives (including me, I hope.)
Yesterday I sent the posting to a guy I student taught at the Lab School at the college. He and I were work colleagues for years with the Minnesota Education Association. For the past six years he’s been Executive Director of the 130,000 member state teacher association in Ohio, and he’d been an Executive Director here in Minnesota, and in Wyoming as well. His Dad recently died and he would have been back to Valley City. It amazes me when I reconnect with people, as I am doing here.
Thanks for the memories.
From Carl Peter, February 25, 2013:
If I remember right, Lou Bruhn taught the college driver’s education class. I took this course, which was a textbook class plus machines. The second part was teaching a student how to drive with a dual control car. I took this course in order to get a certificate to teach driver’s education in high school. This certificate served me very well. I taught the textbook part of driver’s education in my first school. In the second school, I taught five years of behind-the-wheel driver’s education in addition to the classroom part. During that time, I logged in 10,000 miles of dual control teaching without having an accident.
One day I was walking down the hall and Mr.Bruhn stopped me and told me that there was an opening for teaching in McClusky, North Dakota. This was the during the spring of the year I graduated. He told me to call and ask if I could get an interview. At that time, this was just not ever done. In fact it was the first long-distance call I ever made from a pay phone. I called and the Superintendent said that he would like to have me send in an application and my credentials. He also indicated that I could come for an interview. The interview was on a Saturday. I met with him and the president of the school board. The next Monday when I was student teaching typewriting, my supervisor came in and told me that the Superintendent was there and he wanted to talk to me. He indicated that he would like to offer me a contract. The contract for nine months was for $4500.
Added Note from Carl: I graduated from the STC summer of 1960 after having attended there three years and three summers. My first teaching job was at McClusky, North Dakota. I taught there for three years. During this time I bought a 1962 Thunderbird. This was the first Thunderbird that was ever sold in Sheridan County. The kids asked me how I could afford to get a car like that. I told them that it was possible because I didn’t smoke or drink, or attend parties so I was able to save my money to buy this car.
My next teaching position was at Page High School in Page, North Dakota. This was a brand-new school and I taught there for seven years. During that time I had several student teachers from Valley City that I worked with. Their supervisor was going to go on leave of absence, so he asked me to apply to teach in his place. I did and was offered the nine-month contract. I had hoped to be able to be part of a expanding business department, but in the spring there was no opening. The VCSTC registrar came to my office one day and asked me to apply to be his assistant. I worked as an assistant for 13 years before becoming the registrar. I was at that position for 28 years, retiring in 1999.
We are now retired and living in an apartment. My wife retired from Farm Service Agency (FSA) the same year. She worked with making government program payments for farmers. We are enjoying retirement very much.