Vermont to Maine

September 30, 2007

We arrived in Skowhegan, Maine this afternoon after leaving Danville, Vermont this morning after having stayed two nights in Danville. We spent our time there visiting local villages and covered bridges. There are 106 covered bridges in Vermont. We visited 6 but we did take 107 pictures in our two days there (thank you digital technology).

By the way, we did not stop by Ben and Jerry’s ice cream factory in nearby Waterbury. Covered bridges and the local landscape was our focus. On Friday afternoon we drove the Jeep south to Peacham, a small village founded in 1776. On Saturday, we drove as far north as Newport, had lunch on the lake, and returned south via a different route.

The color really varies. We are not sure if we are too early or too late but the color is not as vivid as we hoped it would be. We have not seen anything that equals the color that we saw last fall as we drove from Lake Wenatchee south to Leavenworth. Although, the mass of color is there as entire hills (they call them mountains) are varying hues of red.

The bridges have varied in size and stages of upkeep/deterioration as well. Some are still functional others are only left as monuments.

We picked up some maple syrup at a farm stand on Friday and Barb fixed French toast on Saturday morning. I am sure it was the best French toast I’d ever eaten. It had to be. The syrup was from the farm down the road in Vermont.

Ticonderoga

September 27

When I was in school, we bought yellow #2 pencils by the dozen. They were usually in a green box with a Revolutionary soldier depicted on the front. The pencils’ brand name was “Ticonderoga”. The soldier was Ethan Allen.

We left Cooperstown and headed for the Hudson River Valley. We missed much of its beauty as West Point and the giant mansions of the “Robber Barons” lie to the south, closer to New York City. We headed north and soon came upon Lake George. Color is just emerging here. As we travel north, we find it more pronounced. However, it appears that the “peak color” is a week or so away. We pulled into a NY State Park campground and parked the RV on a site on the lake. Then we hopped into the Jeep and headed for Fort Ticonderoga.

We drove just a few miles and found it sitting on a hill overlooking Lake Champlain. It fell to ruins several years ago but the Pell family bought it and it is virtually restored to its former condition. I mention the Pell family because it is their foundation that also sponsors the Pell Grants, that make parents of college students so happy. The fort had been built by the French, taken over by the British, and later taken over by the upstart Americans via Allen and the Green Mountain Boys. We walked the paths walked by Washington, Franklin, Ethan Allen, and others.

Then we traveled north to Crown Point where the fort has fallen in ruins. Only a few walls and the foundations are visible. But here we enjoyed riding our bikes around the extensive grounds bordering Lake Champlain. Gray billowing clouds were looming in the sky so we cut our ride short.

During our day we had traveled through apple orchards and many farm stands. On the way back we stopped at one that I had noted on the first time through. It was an innovative stand with farm fresh apples, maple syrup, and it had a bakery. We bought a half of peck of apples and an apple pie.

Tonight we retire by the lake. It has been unseasonable warm (mid 80’s today, breaking records all week) and very humid. It is now 7:30, it is 70 degrees and there is lightening and rain. I sit in my warm, dry RV and eat my pie ala mode while watching the lightening streak across the lake.

Sept 28, a.m. It rained much of the night and the lightening and thunder lasted until around 3. The thunder was particular impressive as it rolled down these long valleys in waves of noise. Don’t know how much I slept but I feel refreshed. It was a memorable night on Lake George.

Today is supposed to be nice, cooler with sun. We will cross over into Vermont and travel about 200 miles and hope to find an RV camp in the middle of the color.

Cooperstown

September 25

We drove the 200+ miles to Cooperstown today. Our campsite is again bordering a large pond. The weather is warm, mid 80’s, but the humidity is much lower than it was in Niagara. We have no WiFi or cell phone here so we will communicate from Cooperstown.

On settling in, we immediately headed for downtown Cooperstown. It is another small village of 2000 people but it has an air of sophistication and class. The Baseball Hall of Fame sits prominently in the middle of town. It is bordered by 200 year old mansions and business buildings equally as old and well maintained.

We arrived in late afternoon so we did not attempt to enter the Hall. We walked around downtown visiting the quaint shops, all catering to the baseball mystic.

One particular scene peaked our interest. A man and a lady, I would assume in their mid 70’s, were walking through an open area near the Hall. The couple was wearing life jackets and were carrying paddles. Behind them followed a wheeled cart which carried a canoe. They crossed intersections and walked down the edge of the streets. They were off to their afternoon voyage.

We drove just two blocks to the lake’s edge. Otsego is not a Great Lake but it is large, I think about a third of the size of Lake Chelan. Deciduous trees with emerging fall colors carpet the hillsides that dropped into the pristine water. There is little development but the area has stately mansions, homes, and there is a beautiful golf course. Bed and breakfasts are abundant and there are a few small inns.

We ate dinner at the lake and watched the locals enjoying their beautiful evening. Canoes and kayaks were the vehicle of choice but several large cruisers were evident. The ages of the people varied from young children to very senior citizens, the latter being the majority.

The elderly couple with the canoe returned at sunset and appeared refreshed by their cruise. Barb and I lingered until darkness. We sat by the lake and, laptop in lap, attended to our emails.

September 26, 2007

We spent the morning and part of the afternoon in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Well done. A homerun. The perfect pitch. Kids were portrayed throughout the exhibit. It emphasized the game more than the business. That may not be the way things are but as fans, I think that is what we look for.

I tried not to let the setting influence my judgement. Canton is an industrial city. Cooperstown is an historic gem located on the shores of beautiful Otsego Lake. It is gorgeous here. Just up the street from the lake is a statue of James Fennimore Cooper. His father established the town. Thus, this is “leather stocking” country and it is evident in displays.

We will finish out our day sitting in the park and completing our correspondence via WiFi.

Tomorrow, we head north up the Hudson River Valley and hope to visit Fort Ticonderoga and learn about the “Green Mountain Boys.” We are right on track to rendezvous with our friends in Acadia on October 1.

Erie Canal

September 24, 2007

I've got a mule, and her name is Sal, Fif-teen miles on the Er-ie canal, She's a good ol' worker and a good ol' pal, Fifteen miles on the Er-ie can-al, We've hauled some barges in our day, Filled with lum-ber coal and hay, And ev'ry inch of the way we know From Al-ba-ny to Buff-a-lo

Chorus: Low bridge ev'-ry bod-y down, Low bridge for we're com-in to a town, And you al-ways know your neighbor, You'll always know your pal, If you've ev-er navigated on the Er-ie can-al

I sang this song in Mrs. Henley’s music class. I remember blaring it out. Did I know what it meant? No. Did we float the Erie Canal? Of course. Had to find out what those lyrics, which have been echoing in my memory for 50 years, meant.

We traveled to Lockport, NY, which is just about 15 miles away. There we parked the Jeep and rode our bikes along the Erie Canal on the now paved paths that Sal once walked. I don’t think we traveled 15 miles, but we had to stop to board a boat. I don’t like tours but Barb talked me into boarding a boat for a two hour voyage which passed through 2 locks. It was wonderful.

The afternoon found us at Fort Niagara which is over 300 years old and is located at the point where the Niagara River dumps into Lake Ontario. It was ruled by the French, then the British and finally the U.S. For several contentious years, the fort aimed its canons at Canada, as relations with the British were not sound. We could see Toronto 43 miles across the lake.

We ended the day stopping and eating in a small diner in Youngstown, a small village on the Niagara River. There we sat and conversed with George, an 89 year old who had grown up in Albania, was forced into the army at age 14, imprisoned by the Germans in their invasion, had immigrated to the U.S. in 1947, and found work at the power plant in Niagara and raised a family. He was eager to share his story and we were eager listeners. His story could have been another chapter in Tom Brokaw’s book, The Greatest Generation. The octogenarians have so much to tell. So many stories in the patchwork tapestry of America.

Niagara day 2

September 23, 2007

We spent the day on the U.S. side of the falls which is a New York State Park. There was no commercialization. It was walking/bike paths, view points, parks, and places to overlook the rumbling falls. Barb descended to board the Lady of the Mist. It was a day of special reflection. The Vatican, Borobudur, the Eiffel Tower, the Great Wall, the Twin Towers, the Parthenon, the White House, the Grand Canyon, all have been special places to visit. This site is the most powerful, the most natural, the most dynamic. This is a place that words cannot express. More pictures…

Niagara 2

This place is truly incredible. I now understand why this is often on the "top ten places to visit" lists. I must share one more experience from yesterday.

When Bruce, from the visitor center, informed us of how to see Niagara he suggested that we leave the car in the parking lot and walk the 1/4 mile down to the bridge, walk the 200 yard (guess) bridge and pass through Canadian immigration then walk the 1/2 mile down to the falls. Most of you know that I don't walk well due to my ankles so this posed a problem. We asked about bikes. "That is even better." he explained.

So we rode to the bridge but could not ride on the pedestrian walk. We had to ride on the street with auto traffic which was bumper to bumper. On reaching the other side we followed a car into a booth, showed our passports and entered Canada.

There was little traffic on our return at 9:30 p.m. but the darkness posed a problem. We did not have lights on our bikes and we were wearing dark clothing. The streets and bridge were fairly well lit. After crossing the bridge we had to pass through U.S. immigration. It was a stange experience in the dark of night, riding up to the booth and presenting our passports for reetry. I wanted to make some short of comedic comment of our situation but you don't joke with the border people. It is all business.

The picture on the right is Pete the operator of the light facility. He is holding one of the spent bulbs which projected 500 million candlepower of light.

Niagara

I will post Barb's email today as it is special. I have one addendum. "Bruce", who led us on this escapade, is another senior citizen that we happened upon who had deep roots in this commuity. He has lived his whole life here. He worked for the Niagara Power Authority for 45 years, and he is now a volunteer in the visitors center. Somehow, and I do not know how this keeps happening, he approached us in the visitors center and asked us what we wanted to do in Niagara. Thus, Barb was the "Illumintor of Niagara". The last picture is Barb orchestrating the lights on Niagara with Peter from "Lights Operation". She was awarded a certificate. "An Official Illuminator of Niagara". I am not surprised. She has been illuminating many for years. Bruce and Peter, somehow sensing that, let the people of Niagara share her light.

Barb's email:


Dear All,I know that I mailed you all a note just a couple of days ago and thought that I would update you about once a week, but I just couldn't wait. We had another incredible experience today! We drove into Niagara Falls today from Ohio and our day was going pretty routinely as we left the RV and headed to the local tourist area to check out the "things to do here". As we were pouring over the options at the Niagara Discovery Center, Bruce came to help (hey, brother Bruce, I thought of you). He was very helpful and guided us to the popular tourist spots. Then he said, "Do you want to light the lights on the falls?" I said, "sure" wondering what kind of "tourist ranger" would have influence over the lights on Niagara Falls. He took us to the back room and drew a map of how we could ride our bikes across the Niagara River into Canada, turn left, ride about a mile up around a old brick building that served as an old pumping station, ring the doorbell by the door marked, "employees only" and ask for Pete. We took his map and his advice regarding what to do, where to go and when to arrive. The Falls were awesome and we enjoyed them along with many thousands of other people on the Canada side. The weather was wonderful, too, so we got so many great pictures. We had to wait around until the appointed time to arrive at the lighthouse, but at 7:15 Pete arrived and he let us into the illumination room. We sat and visited with yet another "senior citizen", then the time came because it was finally dark enough. Low and behold, we were allowed and encouraged to illuminate the falls however we wished. In fact there is a light show on the falls from 8:30 until midnight every night and we had the opportunity to do whatever we wanted to as far as changing the colors that were shinning on the falls. I am still in awe of the fact that what I did was seen by so many thousands of people and it was just by chance that we had this opportunity. I came here knowing that my Mom and Dad honeymooned here in 1946. That fact alone is the heartfelt experience I thought I would have, to walk where my Mom and Dad did so long ago, but to have turned on those lights and changed the colors of such a revered place, just takes MY breath away. I do want you all to know that we did shine the USA colors, the Mariner colors, then the Cougar colors on the falls. We even have official certificates that state "I Lit Up Niagara Falls on the night of September 22" so now we are official Niagara Falls Illuminators. Thanks for letting my share this experience with all of you. I just couldn't wait!Love, Barbra

Jefferson

We spent the day visiting local Ohio villages and Lake Erie.

Jefferson (pop 3500) is just a few miles down the road and is the county seat. It's claim to fame includes that it was a center of abolitionists in the early 1800's, it played a huge role in the underground railroad, it was the home of John Brown and he gave a fiery speech at the Congregational Church in town the night before he left to lead the raid on Harper's Ferry, and it is also the home of Benjamin Wade, who was a major player in forming the Republican Party and would have been president if the impeachment process against President Johnson would have been successful. Since it was Thursday, the historical museum was closed. However Vine Lipps (yes, a real name) was walking down the sidewalk in front of the museum and noticed that Barb and I were trying to get in. She stopped to talk. When I told her I was interested in the underground railroad homes, John Brown, etc., she responded, "Oh, I've got to get you in. I'll call Myra." It took a bit of negotiation but I finally convinced her that we didn't need to bother Myra. Vine, a retired teacher, probably in her 80's and suffering from emphysema, talked fondly of her village. We enjoyed it thoroughly. We rode our bikes around to visit the church, the railroad depot, and the courthouse area.

In the afternoon we traveled to Ashtabula. First we went to the Maritime Museum which was closed. However, Glen Beagle (I swear, I am not making these names up) saw us walking around and stopped us to talk. He, a volunteer, was working on painting the fence. He talked fondly of his home town and the history of the area. Again, we found a gem. He directed us to the Hubbard House which is near Lake Erie. It was the terminus of the underground railroad. The Hubbard's, a wealthy business family, were pivotal in arranging houses in the area to deliver the runaway slaves to the Hubbard house. Then in the middle of the night, slaves would be loaded into a boat on Lake Erie to Canada and freedom. All this was illegal but the Hubbards saw it as a moral enterprise. They were arrested at one point but were able to pay the $1,000 fine to avoid jail time.

Barb and I then visited to shore line areas on lake Erie. It was warm both on the beach and in the water.

The 22nd should find us in Niagara.

Canton

September 21

It may have been a wasted night at the rest stop south of Chicago Tuesday night. With the incessant din of the diesel engines and the constant turnover of visitors, I’m not sure how much sleep Barb or I were able to get in the 10 hour stay.

Today was a wasted day. I know there are going to be a few of them on this trip. I guess I didn’t figure that a national landmark would be one of them.

Today we traveled south to Canton and the Pro Football Hall of Fame. It was extremely disappointing. I wish we would have stayed in this area, riding our bikes amongst the historic areas or spending the day on the shores of Lake Erie. I should have known better. This is supposed to be a trip to discover America, not a visit to Madison Avenue.

It is not a museum. It is nothing less than a garish depiction of self glorification. Yes, they have the jerseys. Yes, they have the history. But it projects the athlete as some type of god. I felt it was an opportunity for NFL management to strut their stuff, rather than it being a celebration of athleticism. There was little that depicted fitness, athletic skill, cooperative talents, leadership, work ethic, and commitment. It was pure hype.

Football is catching a spiral and falling to the wet grass on a fall afternoon. Canton is the Superbowl – commercials and a half time show. Did they play a game? Sorry I wasted my and Barb’s day. I hope Cooperstown does it better.

Ohio

September 20,

Happy Birthday, Nathan

We arrived in Jefferson, Ohio last eve after a long drive from the rest stop south of Chicago. We learned that there are rest stops and there are rest stops. The rest stop on the Mississippi in Minnesota was restful, scenic and fairly quiet. The rest stop near Chicago was loaded with trucks that were in and out all night. We must have had over 20 next door neighbors in the 10 hours we were there. Most trucks left their engines running in the 85 degree heat.

We drove the red roads through the countryside. We passed through an Amish community in Indiana and were just south of South Bend, home of Notre Dame. Cornfields still dominated the countryside but the land became a bit hilly and trees lined the creeks and small rivers.

We are staying in a beautiful campground (1000 Trails) and, even though we are in Ohio, it is beginning to project a “New England” flair. Today we will try to visit several covered bridges in the area and the football Hall of Fame in nearby Canton.

The weather will be a beautiful 80 today. The pictures below are from our campsite.

South of Chicago

September 18, 2007

Took a day off of blogging. Here's an update since we left Kasson.

First picture is of the Zumbro Church sanctuary. The second is of the Mississippi Valley above our rest stop south of Minneapolis. Third and fourth are of the Wisconsin Dells.

I failed to fully explain the Wigen/Gustafson experience at South Zumbro church. The sanctuary was built in the 1860’s, the altar and railings, again solid oak, are from that time period as well. The baptismal font used to baptize Sena (my grandmother) and the railing on which she knelt as she was confirmed in 1900, are still used today. I did not have the Zoar Lutheran experience as the church was full of people. But I definitely felt to be in a very special and hollowed place. I attached the picture of the bulletin in that Sunday’s hurried blog. The picture depicts the verse of Luke 15:9. “And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin which I had lost.’” I know that Jesus was referring to lost sinners in that piece but I immediately applied it to the last 2 weeks. I fought tears for a few minutes after just glancing at the bulletin cover. I wonder if even Jesus knew that his words would apply to a person finding his ancestral roots and sharing that joy with his friends and family via a blog.

Also, on leaving church we again visited what is referred to as the “Neseth Farm” where grandma lived until 1901. The story goes that grandma had an older sister whose name was Hansena. She was born in 1860, died in 1872. She was buried on the family farm “by the fence”. I walked around the house area and saw no evidence of a grave. Grandma was named for her deceased older sister.

I wish to thank Linda Sharp of Alaska for helping me find my Wigen/Gustafson roots. Our ancestral lines cross 4 generations back in Kasson, MN and she actually visited my home church in Lacrosse a few years ago. Linda has thoroughly investigated her lineage and was eager to share applicable information with me. Linda and I have been in email contact for over a year. She contacted South Zumbro to let them know that I was coming therefore information was readily at hand. I have never met her, but she is a now a close friend and confidant. I look forward to meeting her, perhaps this spring in Arizona, her winter haven.

Barb and I spent last night in the Wisconsin Dells. We had planned to stop by, view the unique geological formations here, then press on and stay the night south. But, the beauty of life on the road in an RV is flexibility. Sunday night Barb and I thoroughly discussed the next two weeks on the road. We have an October 1 date of meeting the Ornesses and the Moellers in Acadia National Park, ME. We had planned to spend a few days in Chicago but now we will defer that to another time. Chicago is a great city and I don’t feel that we would give it justice with a one or two day visit. We will use our miles to fly there sometime. We will stick to the backroads, visit Canton and Cooperstown, the falls, and join our friends in Maine.

Oh, and the Dells. Well, this beautiful geological formation has caught the eye of developers and has turned this place into a mix of Vegas and Seaside, Oregon. It is a vacation retreat with some of the outrageous architecture reminiscent of Vegas. There must be 47 T shirt shops, a host of fast food joints, and even the “magician in the box, Zoltar,” from the Tom Hanks movie BIG, is here. But it has a Walgreens. Therefore we could stop and print the pictures of our granddaughter Janie that we had just received via email. A stop justified. A stop rewarded.

We rose early to take a boat tour to the upper Dells. Thank you again, Susan Larson, for this tip. It was beautiful and such a juxtaposition from the glitz of the town. Calm waters, sandstone cliffs, and no human noise save our tour boat. Definitely a piece of America preserved.

We left at noon and traveled down south then turned east. We are sitting in a rest stop near Joliet, Illinois and may spend the night here. It is not the rest stop on the Mississippi. It is hot, trucks are running their engines and it is very crowded. We may yet, travel to a nearby RV campground.

Mississippi

We didn't drive far. 106 miles. We headed east until we hit the Mississippi then followed it north. Now the RV lifestyle really kicks in. We stopped several times to admire the beauty of this area. It reminded us of the drive from Portland to Astoria. The wide river was to our right. The only difference is that the forest in deciduous and the road was fairly flat, no mountains. We decided to try to find a spot to stay along this stretch. We stopped a few times and found no place to park a rig this big. Finally, we came upon a rest stop and we pulled in. 6 hour stay maximum the sign said. The rest stop was located on a peninsula sticking out into the river. The parking area has an unobstructed view of the water. Green grass led us from the truck parking down to the river, 60 yards away. A couple is picking items from the ground. It turns out to be walnuts. The male is one of the maintenance people at the stop. We discussed the area, the fact that the river freezes two feet thick by February, that winters have been mild, only 30 days below zero last year, and that the wind blows all the time. I ask the gentleman about staying over night. "Ain't no one going to bother you. Stay the night." I ask his name. "Petersen" "Norwegian?" "Nope, it's got an e. Dane." Barb and I took a quick bike ride up the hill to view the valley. Then we came back to the RV and prepared our doggy bags from the Hubble House. We ate our leftover pork ribs, chicken and broccoli at a picnic table on the shore. We are staying the night on the shores of the Mississippi. Pete said we could.

South Zumbro

Today we attended the church in which Grandma Sena was baptised and confirmed. It was a beautiful day and the service was well attended. After the service we mingled and ate a potluck dinner (lunch).

We are now ready to pack up and head for Wisconsin. We will be in touch.

The following piece was written a few days ago. I waited till now to send as I wanted to make sure this still reflected my thoughts after we attended the service this a.m. It does.

Sunday, September 16:

Has it just been 13 days? An incredible array of discoveries, volumes of information, and some fundamental insights have been gained or renewed in this last fortnight. As I awoke at 4 a.m. this morning and tried to go back to sleep, I knew that the only way to put my mind at rest was to put these overriding and intertwining thoughts into the computer.

I sent Kari (daughter) an email lately telling her that the “chasing dead Norwegians” phase would soon be over. It now is. The rest of the trip is exploring the history, culture, and geography of our nation, not just the history and culture of my family.

Several discoveries have been made. There have been the physical discoveries of Uncle Gilbert’s grave, the Aune quarter, the Zoar Lutheran Church, the community into which my Aune grandparents and father immigrated, South Zumbro Lutheran Church, the community into which my great great grandparents immigrated into in the 1850’s, and their grave. There is also some of the birth, baptism and confirmation records of my Gustafson great grandparents and my Grandma Wigen, as well as the Aune uncles and aunts.

Finding these physical features has lead to a deeper understanding of a part of the American culture (notice the operative word “part”). First of all, Barb and I were reminded how much we enjoy small town America. As we settled into each these communities we found security, helpful people, and comfortable life styles.

Ryder, Marietta, and Revillo had each at one time been thriving communities. Now their streets, void of cars, are filled with empty buildings. The grain elevators loom large and, except for an occasional house and the small elementary school, they are the only structures that have been upgraded or recently constructed. Commercial enterprises, unless you sell fuel or agricultural chemicals, are gone. The houses are filled with old people, 70+ and, even though they are senior citizens, the homes are well maintained and the people are involved in community.

It will be interesting to see what happens to towns like Madison in the coming years. The population is 1800 and it is the site of the regional fair. As we rode our bikes around town we saw modest but stately homes, grocery stories, insurance offices, restaurants, small businesses, etc. Recently there was a huge fire in the high school. The community leaders decided to build the new high school 10 miles out of town, in the country, central to Madison and four smaller towns. It is a beautiful facility with 80 students at each grade level. Some of the Madison people were very happy with the result. More kids per grade enables a school to draw teachers that are competent in specific areas such as technology, math, performing arts, instrumental music, math and science (ie. a biotech fuel production class in an ethanol rich community). But some business leaders are seeing a drop in sales. Parents don’t come into town and spend money while hanging around waiting for their kids. As the speed and efficiency of transportation grows will Madison dissolve away like Ryder?

The old people are healthy. Ardene is 89 and just got back from a drive in to town. George is 87. He is the director of the Minot Cultural Center and leads weekly, sometimes daily, tours. His wife, Jeanise, did the research and found Gilbert’s gravesite. Arlene (mid 80’s) poured over the church archives and found the names. She will also play the organ for the Sunday service. They were eager to drive us around to explore their (our) culture. It is interesting when I look back, how much Arlene and Jeanise are alike. They do not know each other. They probably live 450 miles apart. But their character is so similar. They both were eager to share their energy and insights to make a discovery. And both showed the same characteristic at completion. Their eyes sparkled, they each did a bit of a “dance”, and they were pleased to have contributed. Each of these people exhibited involvement and renewal. They were not sitting on the porch watching the sun set.

There is a phenomenal amount of respect for community. Yards are clean and homes and farms are well maintained. I asked as to why I don’t see any old equipment or derelict cars or trucks sitting around. The high cost of scrap metal was mentioned. There is no (and I mean no) litter along the roads. Many of the roadsides are mowed, raked and baled for hay. Even though the churches grow smaller, the cemeteries are well maintained. I did ask Darwin, as we toured the Bethlehem Cemetery, why there were graves on the outside margins of the cemetery. “Suicide,” was his answer. “If someone committed suicide there was no funeral. They just brought them up here and buried them face down, signifying that they were going to hell. They used to be on the outside of the fence. We moved the fence.”

There are few empty houses or out buildings. A few decrepit buildings are seen but in most cases they represent something of historic or family importance (first grain elevator, etc). Most old buildings are burned down. Bethlehem Lutheran was burned down a year after it was closed. Some were a bit angry about that. “You shouldn’t burn down a church,” was one statement.

Churches fear declining attendance as that means the loss of heritage. Churches have dealt with this by sharing the cost of a pastor. Pastor Galloway serves four churches and preaches in 3 each Sunday on a rotating schedule.

The night we were parked in Ryder, Pastor Galloway came by to see us. We had been in email contact for around a month. He turned out to be an excellent contact. He is 60 years old and was just returning from a horse ride, a childhood hobby that he was renewing. We invited him in and we talked about small towns, churches, and life in general. After some time, I asked him what his biggest challenge is as a pastor. He didn’t hesitate. “Competing with sports,” was his answer.

I knew what he meant because, as a principal, I too had sometimes dealt with parents and kids with misplaced priorities and/or lack of balance in their lives. I asked him to elaborate and Pastor Galloway explained that kids in small towns are expected to participate or support, in a secondary way, the sport programs each season. It is football and volleyball in the fall, basketball in the winter, and track and baseball in the spring. Summer is farm work and sports camps. It dominates the student’s time. I guess it isn’t all bad. I don’t remember seeing many obese kids in those small farm towns. But very little time is left for religious education, religious activities or discussions. Sports involvement is Monday through Friday, Saturday is college football, and it is the Vikings on Sunday. Most of the people who do attend church are old or with young babies. Families with high school students rarely attend. They are too busy with other activities.

I contemplated Pastor Galloway’s thoughts for several days. After sitting in the Zoar Lutheran Church and trying to imagine what life was like in the early 1900’s, I realized that the church was the lifeline of the community. The resources of a struggling community were pooled for survival and fellowship. They had no money. Yet they were able raise enough food or hunt the land to survive. Then they were able to raise enough to trade or sell to buy tools, equipment, and animals. But they also set aside enough to build the church and equip it with a solid oak alter. Much of the basic education was given at the church. Food and medical help were provided in emergencies. The church was the social center. Except for farming and maintaining the home and family, life centered on the church.

How different it is today. We have money. We travel, we buy things to amuse us, and we take up hobbies. The church can become a place of baptism, marriage, and burial. The place where your ancestors are buried is your link to the past. It determines your membership. It is interesting that the institution that enabled survival to our ancestors is now relegated to lower priority.

Then I remembered one scene that ran counter to this thought. I remember at one of the cemeteries there was a large, beautiful black marble headstone that looked brand new. The stone had a football player and a hunter etched into it. The words, “Gone to soon.” were prominent. Also, there was the inscription of “father of two girls”. I did the math. The man was 20 years old. I later found out that he had committed suicide. He had shot himself in the abdomen with his shot gun. Yet his beautiful marker sat prominent in the middle of his family plot. Maybe some of the changes in the church are positive. Here lies a life honored, a life remembered, but a death not understood. Perhaps the passage of time does not change faith, honor or commitment. But it may change the way it is displayed.

I really enjoy small town America.

Kasson MN

September 15

I continue to ask myself how it is that we keep finding these charming spots in small town rural America. The campsites in Ryder and Madison were a pleasure. Kasson MN, the birthplace of my Grandmother Wigen, is quite charming.

We arrived Thursday afternoon. We did stop at Walnut Grove, site of the Laura Ingalls Wilder book “Beside Plum Creek”. We toured an excellent museum there. Thanks, Susan Larson, for the hot tip.

There are no campgrounds listed in our RV resources within 15 miles from here so I emailed the Kasson Chamber of Commerce two months ago and they suggested Stussy RV park in neighboring Mantorville. Mantorville (pop 1054) and Kasson (pop 5057) blend together as towns.

The RV park is situated along the bank of the Zumbro River. There are 10 spaces. We, again, are the only ones. We are parked on the edge of a National Historic District because the stage coach line ran through here in the 1850’s. The Hubbell House (if you google this make sure it is the one in MN) is a block away. The restaurant has fed the likes of U.S. Grant, Eisenhower, Horace Greeley, Roy Rogers, and Mickey Mantle. One of the restaurant’s characters was Ole Bornemann Bull. Google that name if you want to read about a Norwegian character.

Fortunately, for us, this is the Dodge County Seat so the Court House with Grandma’s birth records is another block away. The “County Seat” is across the street from our RV. It is a latte shop, so Barb is elated, which has free WiFi which reaches our RV, so I am elated.

We have been to the South Zumbro Lutheran Church twice. It is located 7 miles SE of Kasson. It is a beautiful flourishing church sitting on a hill overlooking the South Zumbro River valley. The church is flourishing because Rochester (Mayo Clinic) is 17 miles away and young couples are coming to the Kasson area to live. (In fact, I read in some brochures that Dodge County is the only county in MN where the average age is getting younger. I am going to drink a lot of the water!!)

The church cemetery is filled with the names that dominate the cemetery of my home church, Selbu Lutheran, in Lacrosse. I noted Kyllo, Emerson, Wigen, Slind, among others. A prominent placed headstone is of Brita Hansdatter Svardal and Jon Bottleson Tennefoss, both Norwegian immigrants from the Vik area in the 1850’s. They are my great, great grandparents on my mother’s side. Jon helped build the church.

There is no one at the church to let us in. Later, Barb and I phoned the pastor who was to leave the door of the church open for us, but on return, we found the door still locked.

We traveled about a 1 ½ miles from the church to the farm home of Ardean Erickson. It is a long story, but he lives on the property where Grandma Wigen was born and raised until the age of 16 when she moved to Lacrosse. Apparently there was a fire in the early 1900’s and a 16’ X 24’ (Interesting, just a little bit smaller than our RV.) building was constructed there. The generations of families have added on to that structure. Grandma left that area in 1901 so it is not clear that she lived in the original structure.

Ardean is a spunky 89 and had just returned from a drive into town. He is delighted in Barb’s offer of a pint of homemade marionberry jam (I tell you, these things have been worth their weight it gold. People really open up when you offer them homemade jam.) and he eagerly sits and shares his story and the story of the area. He lives alone. A grandson lives in the house next door. Ardean has outlived two children and his wife.

As we leave his farm we drive north on some gravel roads that lead down to the river. The roads are primitive and not well traveled. On arrival to the small river, we disturb a flock of 20 or so wild turkeys.

We return to town and meet with Sandy Dean. Sandy knows that we are coming and she has prepared for us some 60+ pages of data, which she has transcribed from the original records to a database. They contain the church’s baptismal, confirmation and burial records from 1839 to 1930. GGGparents are there. Grandma Wigen is there. Jim (my brother in law) Emerson’s grandfather, father, and uncles/aunts are there as well. Many of the former generation from my home church, Selbu Lutheran in Lacrosse, WA, are listed in the baptism and confirmation lists. One interesting find is that the confirmation records include a comment of evaluation. Grandma Wigen (then Gustafson) received an “average knowledge” report. Brown Emerson, my brother in law’s dad, received a “better than average” evaluation. There were some names that received a “very poor”. Hope my grandkids do not get a hold of my confirmation evaluations…

We are relaxing today, Saturday. Actually we will do laundry, wash the car, etc. I find that writing these blogs is a lot of work but very enjoyable. I want to thank Torgeir, LeRoy, Jill, Wayne, Phyl and Ed Pullen for responding to our blog. It really helps to know if someone is reading it “on the other side”.

Tomorrow, we will go to church and, depending how it goes at church, head out around noon toward Wisconsin. We plan to head east to the Mississippi, follow it up to just outside of Minneapolis, the head east, south east through Wisconsin. I don’t know when I will be able to email again.

arrived in Kasson

Had a beautiful drive from Madison. Stopped at a Laura Ingalls Wilder Exhibit (Beside Plum Creek) which was just about half way. Kasson MN, again is a beautiful, very clean town with stately but modest homes and obvious civic pride. And these farms - I never get tired of looking out the window at them.

Tomorrow we will try to get into the church that my great great grandfather helped build. This time, I know where it is.

Baptism records found

September 12

I called Arlene Woolery mid morning. “I have the book,” she exclaimed on hearing my voice. “The Aune names are in here. Come on out and I’ll put the coffee on.” We drove directly to her house in Revillo, SD.

She and Charles appeared excited to see us. She held up the book as we entered the house. “They are in here but let’s have some coffee first.” After sipping and conversation regarding the Norwegian heritage here, she finally cleared the table and set out the book. The baptism records of Mabel, Conrad, Gilbert, Hjalmer and Clara were all there including dates of birth, dates of baptism, and a list of sponsors. I tried to photograph each listing. On our completion, Arlene suggested that we drive to the original Mebust farm (probably the fist residence) and on to the Zoar Lutheran Church.

The church is a small, white country church. The sanctuary is modest but beautiful. Stained glass windows and pews were added in 1949. The altar and railings are originals from the time of construction, 1901. The altar is oak and is trimmed with the Scandinavian winglike figures similar to those on the stave church in Minot.

We walked out into the cemetery which was directly out the back door of the church. Arlene guided us through each plot and explained the family connections. I think every family had roots in Selbu Norway. As I wrote yesterday, one of the families is Slind. Arlene explained that one of the Slinds, Ben, grew up in Marietta and moved to Ryder North Dakota and is buried there. Yes, we recall seeing the grave marker there not too far from Gilbert’s. That may have been Grandpa’s connection there in Ryder.

We said our goodbyes to Arlene and Charles. Again, good Samaritans had crossed our path and had led us to the point of discovery. Barb and I drove to the Mebust homestead and on to Marietta for one final inspection. We never found a title declaration or record of any Aune land in any of the three counties (one in MN, two in SD) surrounding Marietta and the Zoar church which is 5 miles out of Marietta. If Grandpa did own land here, and Karen’s narrative says he did, then the proof and documentation is left for you.

Before leaving Zoar Lutheran Church, I lingered in the sanctuary for some time. It is trite, but I thought "If only these walls could tell stories." This is the room where my father received his first religious training. I sat in the pews and imagined sitting on the benches with the old Norwegians, who all are now gone. I could see them bundled up against the cold on a winter Sunday. I could hear them singing a hymn in Norwegian. I turned to see young Karie sitting beside me, holding baby Clara with young Hjalmer, Gilbert, Conrad, Mable, and Gunder J., my dad, at her side. GG sat at the end of the bench. I turned to Karie and thanked her and God for the heritage she left me. She turned and looked at me in a puzzled way. At first I thought she was chastising me for talking in church. Then I realized that it was 1909 and she spoke only Norwegian.

We leave for Kasson, MN tomorrow. The drive is about 250 miles. Then the Gustafson (maternal grandmother) journey begins.

Marietta, MN 9/11

Our RV is parked on the perimeter of the county fair grounds here. We awoke to find several vendors setting up to sell farm fresh produce. Barb eagerly bought beans, tomatoes, eggplant, etc. just a few feet from our front door. Interesting way to start our day.

Another day of roadblocks. This time we would like to locate the Aune land here and the church they attended. Hopefully answers will come tomorrow as was the case in Ryder. After arriving in Madison, MN yesterday and checking out the county court house records, we ended up in the local museum. We were given several names to contact.

For breakfast, we met Don Ranson, because “Don always eats breakfast at 8:30 at DeToys restaurant on Tuesday.” Barb and I were there at 8:15. Don, around 75, walked in at 8:30. Again, I introduced myself and told my story. He was sitting with 3 other guys and all were from Marietta. They gave us a list of contacts but none knew the name Aune.

We traveled the 10 miles of flat road to Marietta. It is now a small town of 140 or so with pleasant homes and empty businesses. The first stop was at the Senior Center. We walked in around 10 AM and found four ladies playing the card game 31. They later told us that when Barb and I walked in, they thought they were “busted”. “We don’t get strangers walking in here very often.”

Again, there was no recognition of Aune but they did give us the phone numbers of church members who are very involved in each of the two Lutheran Churches in the area that had Norwegian roots. I called Bill Bork for access to the records at Augusta. Bill (75 years old) drove over and told us to follow him. Even though the church is in Marietta, he led us out of town to a pleasant farm (They are all beautiful here, no old equipment lying around, homes maintained, driveways graveled, lawns and shoulders are mowed.). I was introduced to Robin who shook my hand and said, “I’ll be right back with the records,” and she ran into the house. There were about 15 pickups parked by their very nice enclosed 6 bay shed. Several men were standing around. I asked Bill what was going on.

It turned out that Robin’s husband (never met him) owns a seed business and is working with ag businesses and researchers to develop the best hybrids of corn for ethanol production. Robin’s husband was standing in front of about a 100 yard test plot of tall corn and around 20 signs designating variety of seed time and variety of hybrid seed, and was making a presentation to the group of farmers, probably numbering 40 or so. Harvest was still a few weeks away and ethanol production is an exciting facet here. The gas stations are selling fuel at the 85% ethanol level, the price is 50 cents less per gallon than regular gas, but you’ve got to have the right equipment. Most new cars in this area, so I am told, have the ethanol capability.

Robin returned with a ream of records. “Hope you can read Norwegian.” We can’t but it is easy to figure out baptism from confirmation. Robin invited us in to sit at one of the 8 tables set up for lunch in the shed (I use the term “shed” reluctantly. It is a farm equipment storage and shop combination but the place is immaculate, The concrete floor is as clean as your sidewalk. All tools and equipment are stored in an organized manner. There is not as much as a cob web to be seen.) We are told that a pork chop lunch for the visitors is on the docket.

Barb and I sifted through the records from 1903 to 1912 and found no reference to Aune. We bid farewell and drove to the other church. Zoar Lutheran is located about 6 miles west and just a few yards, I think, inside the South Dakota border. It fits the description that my Aunt Mae left for my cousin Karen. There is no one at the country church so Barb and I walked the cemetery and found the names of Slind, Harstad, Garberg, Eidem, Klegseth,(Gladys 1906-1911), The church is unlocked but as a stranger to this area, I did not feel comfortable in entering.

Then we drove to our last link. Charles and Arlene Woolery live around 4 miles north and west in the South Dakota town of Revillo. Again, Revillo shows signs of a glorious past but now is a village with huge grain elevators and an empty commercial district. We stopped at the store, introduced ourselves, told our story, and asked the lady behind the counter to call Arlene. The clerk dialed her number and handed me the phone and Arlene gladly invited us to her house.

After graciously inviting us into the house, we found that Arlene is the second or third cousin of Barbara Kyllo (Ole). Her grandparents’ last names are Harstad, Garberg, Eidem, and Slind, Arlene’s maiden name was Harstad. All of these, and many more from her church, came from Selbu Norway, the village of my ancestry. “This has got to be your grandparents’ church,” is her response.

She was, however, not familiar with the name Aune. We examined the centennial record and found no Aune reference. However, that report listed building and program history, marriages, confirmations and deaths. None of our family experienced any of the above here. I asked her about baptisms. If this is the Aune church, there should have been five. Her eyes brightened. “I don’t know,” she says. “We didn’t list those in the report.” But we do have them. They are at the pastor’s house in a safe. He’ll be back late tonight.”

Again, we have local Norsks on the hunt. We will call Arlene tomorrow morning. I have an idea that Arlene will be in the church parsonage either late tonight or early tomorrow morning to pour over the baptism lists.

Barb made a great egg plant dish for dinner. Mushrooms, onions, crackers, soup, and a few spices. Delicious.

Last day in Ryder

Sunday, September 9

We attended Immanuel Lutheran Church in Roseglen. This is the church that consolidated with Bethlehem Lutheran, the church that my grandfather helped build in 1917. There were about 70 people in attendance. Pastor Galloway had been my first contact in Ryder. I had contacted him through the ELCA website about a month ago and he had been diligent in responding to me. Pastor Galloway serves in four churches in rural ND and preaches in 3 churches every Sunday. We talked with Darwin and Alice Vangsness again before the service. They had a picture of my father and my aunt Mae at their confirmation in 1918.

After church Barb and I returned to the RV in Ryder, hooked up, and drove a very leisurely drive to Fargo where we spent the night.

Monday, Sept 10

We drove just 120 some miles to Madison, MN which is just 10 miles from Marietta. Marietta is the town to which my grandparents and my 2 year old dad immigrated to from Norway in 1903. We, again, went to the courthouse and found birth records for Aunts Mae and Clara, and Uncle Hjalmer. We found nothing on the twin uncles, Gilbert and Conard. Also, we found no legal description for any land transactions. So, hopefully, the Lutheran Church in Marietta will have some info.

First phase successful

After finding so many roadblocks on Friday, we were anxious to get down to Ryder (about 30 miles southwest of Minot) to do some more investigation. We drove the RV down and parked it along the city park. Ryder is a town of around 90 people, a railroad track and a several large grain storage bins. Ryder is typical of many rural towns in that it once had over 500 people, a hotel, a couple of grocery stores, several eating establishments and 2 churches. It still has the 2 churches, a small cafe and a gas station (sort of). Barb and I checked into the cafe (It is best to let the locals in the cafe know who you are and the small town grapevine will take care of the rest.) and then drove our Jeep up to the graveyard. We searched every headstone but found no Aune. As we returned to the cafe, we met George who was coming to get us. As we exited our perspective vehicles, George came over to greet us. With a twinkle in his eye he stated, "Jeanise has some great news for you." We entered the cafe and Jeanise left her conversation with a local to approach us. "We found him." she exclaimed. She seemed as delighted as I did but I know she did not share the internal emotions that were now really running through my every being. We sat and she related the story of how the Aune name had been striking a vague but familiar chord with her. She called several of her friends last evening to see if she could gain some info. The phone call to Darwin paid off. I don't remember much about lunch as I was anxious to get to grave. George decided that he should drive me in his car and Jeanise should ride with Barb. George is 87 but drives well. As we drove the some 20 miles to our destination George gave a lengthy narrative of the history of the area, the crops, who owned each farm that we passed, historical tidbits, some of which I actually was able to process. He offered to stop to let me look at a few of the farms. I urged him on. We crossed a county line into McLean county. (Explains why there were no records of GG Aune in Minot which is the county seat of Ryder, not Roseglen.) We finally came to Roseglen which once was a town of several hundred people and the commercial necessities. Now there is a post office and tavern, that's all. We drove a mile or so more and he turned on to dirt road. "That it. That is the Aune quarter. (People usually homesteaded a quarter section in this area - 160 acres.) It was a harvested field, void of any buildings.

We returned to the highway and continued west another mile. He turned onto another dirt road and traveled about a mile. A fenced off area lay to the right. A sign read Bethlehem Lutheran Church. The church was taken down in the 1980's. The cemetery is well maintained. We found the white childlike headstone. Found. It lies in the southeast corner of the grouping of headstones, overlooking the Aune quarter, about a mile away. The graveyard is easily seen from the farm. Interestingly, Jeanise's parents are buried in the cemetery as well.

We spent some time at the cemetery. We bid farewell to George and Jeanise. I am not sure we would have found this without them. Barb and I proceeded to the farm of Darwin Vangsness. Darwin is retired and at 74 maintains the cemetery. I stopped to thank him for guiding us there and for his service to all of us who have loved ones buried there. Darwin and I compared notes. He remembered his mother telling him of the 12 year old boy who was killed by runaway horses and is buried there. After comparing notes, we discovered that his mother, my dad and my Aunt Mable were confirmed in the same 1918 class.

Barb and I then met Dwight Johnson who now farms the Aune quarter. He raised canola on it this year.

Barb and I returned to the RV in the park and slept well. However, dead Norwegians dominated my dreams. I am not sure if any of my Aune family had visited here since 1918.

Minot exploration

Another good day yesterday. There was one set back as we pulled into Minot on Friday. Minot has some of the highest gas prices in the US, $3.24/gal. On filling, I went into the station to pay with my Visa and the transaction was denied. I called the 1-800 number on the back and the representative replied, "Mr Aune, there is a charge request for $184 at a Mini Mart in Minot North Dakota. That is not like you." Believe me, I was bit out of sorts as well. After sharing some personal history the transaction request was honored.



Friday morning found us at the Scandinavian Cultural Center. Minot is a friendly city of 35K and the Nordic influence is evident. The city sponsors a Host Fest at the Fair Grounds every October (we are staying on the grounds) which attracts cultural acts from Scandinavia. Apparently 60K attend. We were greeted by a cheerful blue eyed blond who asked about our situation. When I explained as to why we are in Minot,, she responded, "I have to call George." George arrived at the center in 20 minutes. He sat down at a table with us and I explained the Aune story regarding Ryder. George and his wife Janise were born and lived their whole life in Ryder until retirement. George was not aware of any Aunes living in Ryder and did not know of my uncle Gilbert's grave. George had a big book with the plat maps from as early as 1860. GG Aune, my grandfather, was not listed anywhere. After talking for an hour, George left for another commitment but wanted to meet us again in the p.m. Barb and I went to the Trinity Home Center to meet with Alta Hove. She was sitting in a wheel chair eating lunch as we walked in. I respectfully introduced myself and asked how she is doing. "Oh well, I am here." was her response. Alta is physically handicapped (stroke victim?) and is in her mid 80's. She is very sharp. After living most of her life in Ryder she headed a committee to document the history of Ryder. She listened to my Aune story and reflected. She knew the Aune name but she was not aware of any ever living in Ryder. She did not know the location of Gilbert's grave. She did suggest that we spend some time in the little museum in Ryder which she helped establish.

We went to the county courthouse to search records. Again, the recorder was so helpful but we found no GG Aune in any deeds, homestead records, or listing of my Aunt Gladys birth.

We met George and Janise back at the Cultural Center at 1:30. He was one of the major contributors, in time and energy, into the establishment of the center. He and Janise walked us through a log house and a house from Stabbur (grass roof) both imported from Norway and reassembled here. There is also a Stave Church (you can google this) which is the pinnacle structure in Minot. It is a beautiful cedar structure modeled after churches built in Norway in the 1200's. Before entering the church we passed through the "gate house". It is a structure around 15 feet tall and and 15 feet square. A large bell hangs inside. Its significance is that when a child is brought to baptism, the child is carried through the gate house to the church. The bell rings during this process. This symbolizes the entry into the sainthood of believers. The next time a person goes through the gate house is from the other direction at his/her funeral. The bell is again rung and this symbolizes the sending of saint onto heaven, "mission accomplished".



We bid farewell to George and Janise and they informed us that they will meet us in Ryder on Saturday. They feel called to help us find Gilbert's grave. I was a bit overwhelmed by the day's events and look forward to our trip to Ryder tomorrow. Pastor Galloway, from St. John's Lutheran in Ryder called to say that people are expecting us, that they have a place for us to hook up the RV, and that church is at 8:30 on Sunday.



Barb and I took a break from our detective work and went for a relaxing bike ride around Minot. The sun was shining and the traffic was gracious. It was a pleasant ride, a good way to end a very full day.



We very much look forward to tomorrow in Ryder.