I begin Pearl Harbor Day with a commentary entitled “This Particular Civil War”.  Read it later, but please read it, and think about its implications for all of us.

Nov. 8, 2020 S. St. Paul MN.  My daughter did a project to remember veterans on Veterans Day.  Her great-uncle Frank’s poster was among these (below).

This Dec. 7, I ask readers to watch a movie, and think about how it applies to all of us, in the present day.

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This Dec. 7, the documentary film, The World Is My Country, the amazing story of WWII veteran and peace activist Garry Davis, is my focus.  Davis’s death merited a long front page obituary in the New York Times July 28, 2013.

Garry Davis was born in 1921; Pearl Harbor brought his older brother and himself into the military; his brother was killed in 1943 when his Destroyer was hit off Italy.  Garry’s dilemma of conscience began when he bombed a German city, killing German civilians not unlike the Germans he daily worked with in the theater in New York City.

Davis was in his 20s when he made a difference to change the conversation, and he engagingly tells his story himself, as an old man.

The film is being offered free on-line for a week through December 16, and I encourage you taking the hour to view it.

This film has recently been placed on the recommended list for scheduling by America’s public television stations.  Disclaimer: I’ve been supporting the production of this film since I learned of the project in 2011. I found it to be an excellent vehicle for catching young peoples interest and promoting discussion.  Do watch it.  I think you’ll reach the same conclusion.

(Yes, I’m sure you’ll be asked to contribute.  I’d encourage that too.  If you’re interested in participating in an on-line conversation with the movie producer the evening of Thursday, December 17, make your request to me dick.bernard@icloud.com.)

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A FAMILY STORY THIS DAY. Since 1981 – I recall how it happened – I’ve  annually remembered the death of my Uncle, my dad’s brother, Frank Peter Bernard of Grafton ND, on the USS Arizona, Dec. 7, 1941.  Enter “USS Arizona”  in the search box of this blog and you’ll find many links, likely all relating to my Uncle Frank.  Today’s post is a variation on the others.

Largely war stories have always concentrated on young males, sent to fight, and often die, for their country.  Uncle Frank was 26, probably old among the victims that Sunday in Honolulu.  War and Peace is not a simple conversation.  I have a grandson in the Marines; I know antiwar people including a good friend who went to prison for his beliefs.  I’ve served myself, and come from a family for whom service was expected and a duty.  But there is a place for all in this conversation.

As noted, there are many military veterans in my family and circles, including myself.  There are many stories, told and untold.  For a single example: across the street is friend Don, 91, who did his two years in Germany after WWII (the reconstruction years).  His memories often go back to those years.  Some years ago he gave me a CD, which I’ve again listened to in its entirety: Danny Boy: John McDermott.  The link (clink to enlarge) has the play list of this marvelous CD; several cuts of which directly relate to war and its consequences.  Most likely you can easily find all of the songs on YouTube.

Today’s Family Story

Frank Bernard was my dad’s younger brother, born 24 July 1915.  He joined the Navy Sep, 1935; assigned to the USS Arizona Jan 1936, died aboard the Arizona Dec. 7, 1941.  He served his career on the Arizona.

Frank Bernard, Honolulu pre-Dec. 7, 1941

In 1942, Mom’s brother, George W. Busch, (born 11 Jan 1916), completed Naval Officer training; and thence spent three years as an officer on the USS Woodworth (DD 460) in the Pacific Theatre.  His Destroyer survived the war.  They landed at Tokyo Sep 10, 1945, and he arrived home through Portland OR in late October 1945.  He began his career as a public school science teacher.

Naval officer George Busch with family and new spouse Jean Busch with Busch family, May 1944.  He was on leave and married his college sweetheart.  From left, back row, siblings Edithe, Art, Vincent and George.  Standing front: Sibling Esther, mother Rose, wife Jean, dad Ferd.  Kids in front row, Mary Ann and Richard.

Personally, I was one year old when Pearl Harbor happened.

In May and June, 1941, I traveled by car from North Dakota with my parents and grandparents Bernard, destination Long Beach, California. This included an apparently unanticipated visit with Frank Bernard, while the Arizona was berthed at nearby San Pedro.  My Aunt Josie lived in Los Angeles, and since 1937, Grandma and Grandpa usually spent part of the year in Long Beach.  Many others did the same.

What follows is part of a 1941 Shell Oil road map of the U.S.  The actual trip is described in two earlier posts, linked below, in which my parents describe the general routes we followed to and from.

Here’s a pdf of the same map: 1941 road map west U.S.

Here and Here are two previous posts about the 1941 road trip to and from California from North Dakota.  They didn’t take the trip to be remembered by history, but certainly they did contribute to our knowledge of this time.

Enjoy.

Late June 1941, Long Beach CA, from left: Henry and Josephine Bernard, Josie Whitaker, Frank Bernard, Richard, Henry and Esther Bernard.  Grandma Josephine wrote on the back of this photo: “Taken June 22, 1941 at Long Beach.  The first time we had our family together for seven years and also the last.  This is where we lived.”

One year ago this time of year, was one of the worst times of my life.  I usedcomputer a lot, innocently, and I was maliciously and viciously hacked.  It wasn’t till the end of January 2020 that I was back in business, older and hopefully wiser.

It is not easy to be ‘wiser’.  Most recently, today, a simple family letter with replies and a forward went somewhat awry, some recipients had trouble reading the text – too small, or too wide – the sort of thing all of us experience crossing technologies, platforms and whatever.  A real letter, with stamp, is preferable, but an e-mail is so much more convenient, faster and easier to transmit to more people, instantly.

Can’t win for losing (for my family, and anyone else interested, I’m passing along the earlier communication at the end of this post, about music in my ancestral family.)

On a more positive note about technology and its partner, real paper, it is daily being confirmed that the fears of interference in the 2020 Presidential election did not materialize.  On Sundays 60 Minutes former cybersecurity director Chris Krebs confirmed that this election was not disrupted by mischief.  One of his biggest shoutouts was to paper ballots, which can and did confirm the accuracy and security of the technology used in this election.  (Krebs was fired by Tweet by President Trump.)

High tech has great positive potential; and great potential for peril.  Hackers, mis- and dis-information by global evil-doers require caution.  For me, a learning from my bad experience is to no longer have passwords saved, and to go through the process of turning off the computer when I’m off-line, and re-signing in each time.  Nothing is a guaranteed.  But more diligence, not only just by myself, makes serious problems less likely anyway.

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Now, here’s the family story (which happens to be about music in the old days) which even non-family members might find of interest.  This story essentially continues three Thanksgiving time posts on the same general topic, here, here and here.

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Music in the family: the errant e-mail chain.

Nov. 28, Mary: Hi guys and I fully expect I put the wrong e-address for Dick.  Auto population and advanced years keep me sort of annoyed!

from Dick, Nov. 28: Well, quickly for now.  Strasburg and Berlin are about 100 miles apart (here).  Grandpa was born in 1880 and they moved to ND in 1905 and Lawrence was  born in 1903, and there is no lore that the Busch’s ever met Welk, though they certainly would’ve loved the music.

I went out to the Welk home in rural Strasburg with Vince and Edithe one time (here).  It was just a small typical rural farm place which was a tourist attraction.  The year after Edithe died (2014) a niece of Lawrence came down to St. Rose from Jamestown and talked to the residents about her uncle.  (Photo). That was the closest call I think they had to the man.  The Nursing home audience was very attentive!

I have a letter somewhere from Aunt Josie, Dad’s sister that says that Grandpa Bernard and Lawrence Welk were friends.  This is plausible, because from the late 1930’s through most of the 1950s Bernards wintered in Long Beach, and during the 50s Lawrence Welk was very prominent in the LA music scene, and the odds that Bernards went to see him from time to time is pretty good.

That’s about all I can offer.

Frank, Nov 30: There was a piano in the Yellowstone West Thumb employee rec hall and one summer I learned a few chords (ie C, D etc) while on break from my busboy job.  That would have been 1960s.  Later on at the Busch farm I sat down at the old upright, opened up the keyboard and did a little chording.  Grandpa  was very interested and got out his fiddle and we did a few tunes — all of course limited by my minuscule musical ability.   So, if Grandpa played with Lawrence and I played with Grandpa, you know someone only twice removed from Lawrence Welk.  That, and $2.50 will get you a tiny coffee at Starbucks, should they ever be allowed to reopen, of which I am becoming less certain of as days go by.

Dick, Dec. 1:  I think Grandpa Bernard is the one who may have actually met Lawrence Welk in California, per Aunt Josie’s recollection.  Of course, no way to prove that, either!  No doubt, Grandpa Busch was a country fiddler when he was young.  He apparently read music, rather than improvise.  He had a small group and played neighborhood dances, like in Grand Rapids.  The Busch’s were all interested in music, it seemed.  I wonder what finally happened to the old piano, which I tried to research years ago.   Attached is a photo of Grandpa, fiddle and family about 1912 or so.  He would have been in his early 30s.  Grandpa is holding the fiddle, Grandma is behind him.  Mom would have been 3, probably to Grandma’s right.  I don’t know for sure who the other people were.

Busch family with visitors about 1912. Ferd is at center with the fiddle; Rosa stands behind him. At the time there were three children. Lucina is in front of her parents, Esther, my mother, is to her sisters right. A younger sister, Verena, is probably not in the picture. She was born in 1912. The other children are from the other family(ies).

 

In addition,  I wanted to note that the picture was taken at the west wall of the original house.  Where they were standing was likely what later became the living room where the piano stood.  Mom’s memories (p.124-25 in the Busch-Berning family history) says “After I left home [about 1928] the folks acquired a rather badly worn piano but it was a real boost to the musically inclined in the family.  Lucina had taken piano lessons at the [St. John’s] Academy [in Jamestown] and she would chord or play the melody while Dad played the violin and the rest of us sang, both hymns and popular songs.  Dad bought a lot of sheet music and seemed to have most of the current songs in his repertoire.  He could read notes and that helped with the violin.”

  On page 120 Mom says “Rural entertainment was something else.  We used to have Yoeman club dances in the Yoeman building in Grand Rapids once a month during the winter time.  [Dick: I think the building still stands on the Main Street of Grand Rapids and was remodeled]. We would go with sled or buggy, bring a box lunch and dance until two o’clock in the morning.  Many of the dances were square dances and quadrilles.  My dad was always the fiddler with some assistance from other musicians in the area.  I even played the banjo one night along with the dance band.  There was always a good piano player at least good at chording and rhythm.  If the children got sleepy they slept on piles of coats in the club kitchen and many slept the whole night long.”

At my Thanksgiving post a couple of days ago, my brother, John asked me a family history question in the comments section.  I answered the question as best I could.  Thinking about this business of family and Thanksgiving got me to thinking about family gatherings generally in the old days.

Busch family Dec 1942, George center, back. from left, Mary, Florence, Rosa and Ferd, Art George, Edithe, Esther, Vincent and Lucina.  (Verena died at 15 in 1927).

Luckily, the families from which I spring did a more than middling job of documenting life.  In those days, long before today’s technology, photography was not a simple matter.

From my own experience, any time we came to the farm, before we left for home Grandpa would haul out the old 1910 box camera and take a single picture, as the above.  As years went on, as children married additional cameras would document the farewell.  The above photo includes all of the children, someone’s husband, probably Uncle Duane, Lucina’s husband, clicked the shutter.

Not all photos were dated (by pencil on the back).  This was the case with this one.  Family historians have to become amateur archaeologists, so it is with this one.  Things like Lucina’s coat give clues.  I’ve concluded this one was probably late 1942, when Uncle George was making his last visit home after completing training at Great Lakes in Chicago, enroute to three years as an officer on the Destroyer USS Woodworth (DD 460) in the Pacific theater in WWII.

This would have been a pensive time.  We were at war.  Esther’s brother-in-law Frank Bernard, had gone down with the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor a year earlier. The oldest child in this photo would have been 35.  Grandma and Grandpa were about 58 and 62 (they died in 1972 and 1967 respectively).

There was a certain rhythm to all of these family gatherings.  Weather dictated such visits, so they usually happened in non-snow times, usually spring, summer and fall.  There is no apparent snow in this picture, but no snow in December was not unknown.

If one child came home, likely two or three others were there as well.  Six of the kids were unmarried, three of them living at home.  The visitors came and went home the same day – motels were less available and the house was very small.

Dinner for company was farm fare.  Usually, the meat course was chicken.  Grandma would assess how many chickens were needed to feed the group. Fresh or canned vegetables and home-baked bread and dessert were always part of the meal.  This would have been after the Great Depression so food was probably plentiful.  Hard work kept the folks slender….

The house would have been very crowded this day in 1942.  Bathroom?  The outhouse.  There was radio, and telephone, no television.  Electricity wouldn’t come through rural electric till about 1949, though by 1942, the had a wind charger with storage batteries.  Entertainment? Probably a game or two or whist or canasta before the visitors headed for home.  And there was alway some singing.

Yes it was the old days.  ‘

Happy Thanksgiving.

POSTNOTE:  More about the Busch and Berning family at the North Dakota Historical Society.  Search archive collection 11082.  The collection is not yet complete – Covid-19 caused me to cancel my summer visit in 2020.  Maybe next year….

Today as part of my daily drive I went by Lifetime Fitness, which had been my daily haunt till Covid-19 closed it in mid-March.

I took a photo.

Lifetime Fitness Woodbury MN Nov. 20, 2020

The parking lot was active this day, though Lifetime will again close as of midnight.  Like other businesses it was closed a few months and then reopened for a few, and now it’s closed again.

Personally, I’ve taken a vacation from Lifetime these last few months, preferring my long-time outdoor route.  We’re getting into snow-time and daily cold weather, so it won’t be as comfortable as the tread mill with neat videos of walking in scenic areas around the world in perpetual sunlight and perfect summer weather.  So be it.

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The first day I walked in the park last March, I came across some prairie architecture off the walking path.  It utilized assorted deadfalls in the woods – things like tree branches and the like.  Every now and then, there were changes: additional ‘structures’, modified designs….

Recently I actually saw some people around the project – some kids and their Dad from one of the houses a short distance away.  It was some nice useful activity.  Here’s the latest rendition of their “house”: a nice constructive use of time during a terrible health crisis in our world.

In the Carver Park woods, November, 2020

Back in March, 2020, in the same park down the same path I saw a note somebody left which whose sentiments I hope we can subscribe to for as long as it takes.

At entrance to Carver Park walking trail, Woodbury MN April 8, 2020.

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There’s nothing funny about Covid-19, but this cartoon from the 2021 calendar (January) from the Union of Concerned Scientists seems appropriate for the occasion.

2021 Center for Science and Democracy Calendar, Union of Concerned Scientists.  Artist (c) April Kim Tonin

POSTNOTE: Saturday’s Minneapolis Star Tribune had a front page graphic of Covid-19 in Minnesota.  Note especially the November timeline on the right side of the page: Covid-19 and MN 2020 (click to enlarge).

Saturday afternoon I went by the empty parking lot of the local movie theater, which was a popular destination in per-Covid-19 times.  It, along with other gathering places in Minnesota, is again shut down for several weeks.  As marquee announces: “See you after the shutdown:.

Woodbury theater, Saturday afternoon Nov. 21, 2020. Note the message on the left side of the marquee.

This is the first of what will likely be several followup posts on Election 2020 and the future.  Previous post here.

First, a commentary and several on-line events, all open to the public and I highly recommend:

This morning, a hard-hitting, easy read, here.

Recently, a. highly respected group I’m part of, Fresh Energy, had its annual breakfast, this year, virtual.  Here is the recorded program, including the keynote speaker, for those interested.

Nov. 18 7-9 p.m. CST: note the first two paragraphs of my Oct 23 post entitled “antifa”.  An on-line panel discussion: “How do we know Fascism when we see it?”  All details in the link, there.

Nov. 19 7-8 p.m. CST: Discussion of the film Made in Bangladesh.  Information at https://www.globalsolutionsmn.org, scroll down to Third Thursday Global Films Discussion group.

Nov. 21 7 p.m. A new film on-line: Madan Sara.  Haiti.  All details at the link.

A local polling place Nov. 3 2020.

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FirstThoughts after Election 2020.  Team.

This is the first of possibly several posts on this topic.  Check back between now and end of November.

As the political donnybrook of 2020 begins to settle, I think back to some simple lessons from athletics:

1 – Ten years ago or so, at my local fitness place, I would follow my time on the tread mill with a few minutes of shooting a few solitary baskets in the gym. If I was there about noon, often there would be a pick-up game, always men, probably on lunch hour, playing out their memories of high school or college ball.

These were always ragged events: dribble, shoot, rebound, dribble….  I was far too old, and short of skills to join the rabble. There was no referee, sometimes anger, sometimes posted rules were violated, doubtless some visitors were disinvited.  Passing was an undesirable option.  A lunch hour ‘field of dreams”.

This day I think about the occasional visitor who really stood out from the rest of the “team”.  This person was big, strong, and a cut above the rest of the tribe on the floor.  This guy – there were more than one like this, usually not there at the same time – had one view of reality.  Get the rebound, dribble down the court, shoot, repeat.

When he got the ball the court was his.  Lesser individuals were just people to run over.  They were necessary to validate his efforts, but useless to his idea of ‘team’.  The ball was his.  Period.

I think of a particular individual in our national political conversation at this moment in our history who resembles this ball-hog.  Thankfully, he is being retired.  Not so thankfully, he has more than two months to do more very serious damage.

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2 – I think of another example, another basketball team which I never saw, but which lives on in memory, since I did see the gym in which they practiced and played, and met the coach.

My Dad was a school teacher in tiny towns in North Dakota.  His title was Superintendent, but really he was teaching Principal.

One year, in 1942, he took a job in a tiny school district near Jamestown ND.  The story I relate was sometime in the early 1990s when Dad and I visited the town, and he happened across an old man who had been the coach of the town basketball team before Dad arrived.  We also visited the long closed school, now someones home.  We saw the gym – the baskets still there.

The town team in the early 1940s was legendary, I gathered.  Near all the high school age boys, literally, were needed on the team.  This coaches teams were always winners.  He was a volunteer, a part of the town.

The secret of their success was simple: they were a team.

Their offense was simple:  pass, pass, pass.  That was their practice.  They were boring to watch, I’d guess, since they became expert at passing from one to the other until there was a near sure shot.

On defense, they were tenacious pests to the opponents.  Ball stealing was common.  Then, pass, pass, pass.

They always won.

WWII closed down the program, I gathered.  Boys went in the service.  There were other priorities.  But they leave a lesson.

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Today’s “Team USA” – all of us – has some very hard, hard lessons to learn if we are to have any chance of thriving in the future.

The tribal strong man model is a sure loser.

Being a team will take a great deal of practice.  We – everyone – is part of the team called the United States….

There is no other choice.

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More in future posts.

My personal position on Election 2000 was transparent, and remains on previous pages of this blog.  I’m Democrat: that’s no secret.  My primary issue this year was the imperative change in national “tone”.  I wasn’t alone.  Mr. Biden at this writing has over 78,000,000 votes.  His opponent more than 5 million less.  Mr. Biden is demonstrating the kind of behavior that is essential.  I hope he sticks with the discipline he has shown so far.  His will be a very difficult job.

This summer, I made one definitive statement to a long time friend about the past four years: “My one statement…is this: in the last 62 years only in the last three have I felt totally excluded – and in 35 of these years a Republican was President.“

COMMENTS (more at end of post):

from Mark: Great posting – and excellent links to great resources that German ad is terrific

from Mary: Hi Dick…there is some relevance in sports.  Yesterday I watched two football games-in the first the teams got down to the last 90 seconds and used the ‘time out’ and ‘take a knee strategies’ to avoid the possibility that the other team might possibly muscle its way in and pull off  the unimaginable win…..that tactic always shows me a lack of backbone and belief….an easy way out.  In the second game the offense used every second at the end of the game to end in victory with the basic ‘hail mary’ and a touchdown.  In neither game did either team, the ‘winners’ or the ‘losers’, wrap themselves in self pity and refuse to concede.  I have my own opinions as to which teams and specifically which decisions represent which parts of our cracking democracy but I appreciated the fact that AZ believed to the last buzzer that they could pull it off….we should do no less.