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.