Adeline's Autobiography

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ADELINE OLSON
(Written in 1993)

PART 1 – My Early Life, Through the End of WW II

My name is Adeline Iona Wendell Olson.  My mother’s name was Adele; my grandmother’s name was Caroline.  Fortunately, for me, the combination made a bona fide name.  It could have been utter disaster.  Where the “Iona” came from is anybody’s guess.

While on the subject of names, my father was born Oscar Anders Trögen and as I recall, the “Wendell” he assumed at Ellis Island was his mother’s maiden name. 

My mother came to America as a domestic.  There was a lot of poverty in Sweden in the early 1900s and she, like so many others, came here to make a lot of money and then return to Sweden.  She never intended to make America her permanent home.  Fortunately, she had an aunt who lived on the North Side of Chicago, Möster Maria, and she more or less sponsored her. 

Möster and Möbror had a jewelry and clock repairing business on Chicago Avenue and I always considered them wealthy.  This was not true as it turned out… they were not wealthy but lived comfortably.   They both lived to be seventy-something but they had no children.  The business reverted to nephews on Möbror’s side who carried on the jewelry business on Belmont Avenue (Andersonville) under the name of Swenson & Pearson.

The circumstances of my father’s reason for coming to America is a little bit hazy.  I know he was involved in some labor union dispute in Sweden.  I don’t think he was forced to leave but I assume, like so many other young men, he expected to get rich in America.

My mother was born on April 3, 1893, and my father was born on October 3, 1886.  I know little about their courtship or even how they met.  I’m sure it was at a Swedish doing of some kind.  They were married on April 27, 1915.

OSCAR AND ADELE, ADELINE’S PARENTS

Dad worked at the U.S. Steel corporation in South Chicago – to my knowledge that was the only job he ever had.  He was known as a “Millwright” – a job associated with machine maintenance.  He walked to work, or at that time there were streetcars available that would take him to the gate.

US STEEL PLANT, SOUTH CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

Mom and Dad had three girls – and some sad experiences.  Frances, the oldest, died at the age of 3 (September 27, 1918) of diphtheria.  This was a real shocker because she went so fast.  It apparently was a matter of hours.  After this heartbreak they decided to try again.  I was born on July 26, 1919, and it was a normal home delivery.  The youngest sibling, Norma, lived only a matter of hours and she was born on November 12, 1921.

Also, at this time, my parents were sending for my mother’s siblings who were still in Sweden.  One by one they came – Frieda, Hildur, Emil, Victor, and Esther.  There was always room for them to stay until they found work, although it must have been crowded at times.  I want to mention that all the sisters and brothers were from a second marriage – my mother had a different father.  In addition to the five who came, there were four who remained in Sweden.  Their family name was Björk – my mother’s maiden name was Swanson.

When I was five years old, my mother and I went to Sweden for a trip.  By this time, her mother (my grandmother) had died but there were still some married siblings in Holmsund.  This was before air travel and we took an ocean liner from New York and I think the trip was about ten days.   We stayed in Sweden for five or six months.  Of course, I spoke only English when we arrived but soon learned that if I were to survive I’d have to talk like they did and amazingly at the end of the vacation I not only spoke Swedish but I had completely forgotten all the English I had learned in my first five years of life.

I have to tell you of one incident – the people we stayed with had a dog whose name was “Krut”.  When we first got there, the dog wagged his tail and was friendly, and I talked a blue streak, knowing of course  that he could understand me.  Imagine my chagrin when he responded to a Swedish command.  I was absolutely crushed – even the dog knew Swedish.

My aunt Tekla had a son, Allan, who was seven or eight years older than me and he pretty much took care of me – showing me the ropes – places to go and things to do.  In 1977, I saw Allan for the second time and he was in a hospital in Umeå.  Incidentally, he married a girl by the name of Elsa and they are the parents of Lars Erik who was married to Lena, that beautiful, talented lady who died a couple of years ago at the age of 40, of cancer. 

It was on this trip that we went to Dalarna and I met my grandfather (father’s side).  He was the only grandparent I personally met and, of course I remember little.  My dad also had a couple of brothers and a sister.

My parents bought a house, 7944 Manistee Avenue, somewhere around 1921 or 1922.  It was pretty big – 3 bedrooms, living room, dining room, kitchen and a bath and it was the only house they ever lived in.  At one point, the whole house was lifted up and a basement was dug and there were always small additions and changes to the porches, etc.

At that time the area around 79th Street was pretty much a Swedish area.  the area had a lot of Poles but they were south of 80th Street for the most part.  Along east 79th Street there were Swedish stores – a deli, a bakery, a paint store.  Right in the midst of this, my mother and my Aunt Hildur opened a Swedish Restaurant.  At this time I was about six years old.

This decision was momentous in our daily lives.  We no longer did any cooking at home.  We no longer had our meals together as a family.  Both Hildur and mother put in long hours because they opened at 6:00 AM and closed at 9:00 PM and between the two of them (plus a couple of waitresses) they did all the food preparation as well as the serving.  This must have been about 1926.

Because both my parents left the house before 6:00 AM, at the tender age of 6 or 7 I woke up from an alarm clock, dressed, locked up the house and walked a couple of blocks to 79th Street.  There was a gas station across the street from the restaurant, run by a nice man, Mr. Kaplan.  He would see me safely across the street.  I would have my breakfast and then go to school.  The school, Myra Bradwell, was only a couple of blocks away.

MYRA BRADWELL SCHOOL, 7736 SOUTH BURNHAM, CHICAGO

I completed 8 years of school here, and I think I rather liked school.  I can still remember we did have domestic arts, like cooking and sewing, and we all made our dresses for graduation day.

I have digressed.  Back to the restaurant era.  There was always a lot going on at that time.  Young men and women were coming from Sweden regularly and my mother and Aunt Hildur had a book in which they would let these people charge their meals, so they would have food until they found work.  I can’t remember for sure but I think at that time, full dinners were $0.35 and $0.50.  I know coffee was 5 cents a cup.  Sometimes, some would peel potatoes or wash the dishes to pay off some small debt.

During the Depression years, we always had young men sleeping in cots in our basement on Manistee Avenue.  These were the homeless of those times.  One in particular was Erland Brandt, a handsome young man, who spent a lot of his young life “riding the rails”.  He would be gone many months at a time but is base was my parents’ basement.  I heard that he eventually returned to Sweden and entered politics of some kind.

My parents were not churchgoers, although they had been members of Swedish churches in their youths.  As a result, I went (with some neighbors) to a Baptist Sunday School, was confirmed in a Methodist church, and in my college years I became a Lutheran (for strictly money reasons.  This is another story and will come later.

I find it rather difficult to keep from straying and going off on tangents.  So, back to the early restaurant era.

When I was 8 or 9 I met Mae Ramclow.  Mae and her parents rented an apartment in a building next door to the restaurant.  For some reason, the Ramclows never owned a home – they always rented.  The Ramclows were a Swedish family.  Mae was an only child, and it was only natural that we would become inseparable.  We went to the same school, we were in the same grade and we still are in touch.  In addition to grade school, we went to Hirsch High School, Northwestern University, and Augustana College.

Mae and I would get up at 6:00 AM and go swimming at the 76th Street beach many times during the summer.  Mrs. Ramclow was very supportive and many times she would go with us.  We would walk a couple of miles to try tennis.  We learned to ride 2-wheeler bikes in the Myra Bradwell schoolyard.  We roller-skated everywhere.  Saturdays and Sundays we would go to the movies (I think it cost 15 cents).

We were very independent.  I think I was about 9 years old when I took the train (Illinois Central) downtown to do shopping for the first time.  My parents sure seemed to have a lot of faith and trust in me because I was not carefully taken care of or supervised.  One reason may have been that I grew rapidly and I was considered large for my age and very mature.  I think I reached my maximum height about the age of 12 or 13 and it’s been downhill ever since.

Dad bought his first car about 1926.  It was a blue 2-door Studebaker.  Our first vacation was a 2-week camping trip to Duluth.  I say “camping” trip inasmuch as we slept in the car, had curtains for the windows and we stayed at tourist camps and did a lot of our own cooking.  However, I do remember at least a one-night stay at a small “tourist cabin”.  My dad was a little bit of a dude and I can still see him in a pair of plaid knickers he purchased for the trip.  For your information, they were knee-length, had buckles at the knees, and were worn with knit stockings.

1926 STUDEBAKER, FIRST CAR BOUGHT BY OSCAR

 

The Depression Years were very hard but my dad never lost his job.  His hours were cut but not completely.  With the restaurant, we always had enough food and it was not fun, but neither was it utter disaster as it was for so many.

My cousin, Dorothy, came to live with us.  Her parents had both died in Rockford and my mother and Hildur decided to raise her.  She had a sister, Lorraine, who was sent to Camden, New Jersey, and was raised by an aunt on her father’s side.  Dorothy was about the same age as Jane (Hildur’s daughter) and they were about five years younger than I.  This was not, at first, a very happy thing for me.  Dorothy wasn’t easy to get along with – moody, pouty, and could be downright unpleasant at times.

Somewhere around the year 1931 my mother and Hildur bought a lot at Cable Lake,  near Dowagiac, Michigan.  My uncle John, who was a super carpenter and out of work, built a summer house there.  He did a beautiful job and there was a large living room, kitchen (with a kerosene stove and a bona fide icebox), two bedrooms and a bath. 

Cable Lake, at that time, was a haven for many Swedes in Cheltenham and it was a small development (maybe 20 cottages in all).  I have nothing but fond memories of that place.  When Mae and I were about 12 and 13 we would spend many weeks there.  We were not alone – we always had Jane, Dorothy, and other smaller children to take care of.  Here again, I can’t understand how we were given such responsibility.  Mae and I were the adults – we shopped, cooked, and disciplined the younger ones all week.  Parents would alternate weekends to bring us food and supplies and, I might add, encouragement.  What a beautiful “sitter set-up” that was.

We had an iceman who delivered ice a couple of times a week.  We could walk to “Melody Gardens” and get groceries that we needed.

Holidays were busy times at Cable Lake.  Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, and Labor Day were real “fests” – picnics and wall-to-wall people!  Relatives, friends, friends of friends, all seemed to be able to find it and, as I recall, it was always a 2- or 3-day “bash”.  In addition, the swimming was great.

CABLE LAKE, DOWAGIAC, MICHIGAN

I want to digress here and mention a funny incident that I recall.  Because work was so scarce, my uncle John (Hildur’s husband) and his brother, Axel, decided to build a boat to use at Cable Lake.  They worked on this in their spare time in a garage all winter long.  It was a nice boat, pretty big, but they were unable to get it out of the garage in the spring and it had to be partly dismantled.  It turned out to be not so good.  On water it wouldn’t go down far enough so they put cement in the bottom at one end.  It had floatability then, but it was extremely hard to row.  They may have been good carpenters but not very good engineers.

1933 – the year of the World’s Fair in Chicago – was pretty momentous.  I had graduated from the eighth grade at Myra Bradwell.  I was 14 years old and I worked full-time at the restaurant.  I made $15 a week, plus tips.  I was on top of the world.  I started a bank account.

Even though we were miles from the Fair site, there was a lot of additional “tourist” business that came our way, and I enjoyed every minute of it – especially meeting and talking to people from other states.

CHICAGO WORLD’S FAIR, 1933

I mentioned earlier how Dorothy was pretty much of a problem.  One day, I was magnanimous and took Jane and Dorothy downtown on the Illinois Central to spend a day at the Fair.  We visited a lot of the exhibit and had been there awhile when suddenly I realized Dorothy was missing.   We looked and retraced our steps but could not find her.  Finally, in desperation, I called the restaurant to admit that I lost her, only to find she was sitting at home – she had taken the train.  Incidents like this didn’t help any to make her more likeable.

For some reason (it might have been that I was very quiet and tended to be shy) my parents entered me in the Sherwood School of Dramatic Arts.  I went on Saturday mornings and learned a lot of recitations.  I can remember going to recitals at the Shoreland Hotel on the Outer Drive and also at the Fine Arts Building on Michigan Avenue.  So much for “Show Biz”. 

SHORELAND HOTEL, SITE OF CHILDHOOD RECITALS

I also had weekly piano lessons for several years and all I can say is I could read music somewhat but I had no innate ability.  However, Mae and I would occasionally play a duet in church, and I could master Christmas carols very well.

Mae and I started to attend Sunday School at a Methodist Church on the corner of 79th Street and Burnham Avenues.  We became quite active – choir and pageants, and they had a lot of activities like potluck suppers, roller skating parties, etc.  And it was here that we first became aware of “boys”.  There were two brothers, Carl and Lennart Olson, and I suppose you might say that they were our first dates.  We were both confirmed in this church.

METHODIST CHURCH AT 79TH AND BURNHAM, CHICAGO

We also had a couple of girlfriends.  Evelyn Salmon lived in the same building as Mae.  She was a very intelligent girl who, after high school, married a Puerto Rican doctor by the name Paniagua.  She lived on the Island many years but they were divorced and she came back to the States, went back to school and got her doctorate.  She remarried and taught at Loyola University until her retirement.

Margaret Deffenbaugh was a tall, red-haired girl.  She also was a straight-A student who, after high school, graduated from Wellesley College and married a wealthy young man, LeRoy Carlson and they lived in Evanston.

The four of us always found things to do.  On Ladies’ Day, we would take the streetcar and El to Wrigley Field.  At this time we also ventured downtown to concerts and plays.  In addition, we went to museums, art museums, and we could spend hours at Marshall Field’s.  Needless to say, I’m sure my parents were very happy to see me in a group like this.  At that time in Chicago, we never worried about crime and muggings – they were unheard of.  We felt perfectly comfortable on all forms of transportation – bus, streetcar, the El – and the price was right.  The fare at that time was 7 cents and that included transfers.

In the year 1934, Mae and I started high school at Hirsch.  The school was about 2 or 3 miles west on 79th Street, so most of the time we rode the streetcars but on many occasions we would walk home in the afternoons.  We always walked a lot those days – the library was a mile, some theaters were a lot farther than that.  We never relied on our fathers driving us anywhere (mothers didn’t drive very much those days).

HIRSCH HIGH SCHOOL, CHICAGO IL

One thing I remember very vividly was that we really dressed up to go to school.  High-heeled shoes and long stockings were the norm, as well as dresses rather than skirts and blouses.  This changed very abruptly when saddle shoes (brown and white or black and white) and bobby sox came on the scene.

The high school years were for the most part very calm and uneventful.  we had some class parties, some “crushes”, a few dates but no real romances.  At that time, there were  few girls who would “smoke” but they were the wild bunch and certainly in the minority.

ADELINE HIGH SCHOOL PHOTO, AROUND AGE 18

Summers were great.  Mae went to Cable Lake with me and I went on vacations with her parents.  They regularly went to Minocqua, Wisconsin, and rented a cabin for a couple of weeks.  Fishing was the main occupation.  Those days, before superhighways, it was a 2-day trip to get there, but I have nothing but great memories.   I think her parents were glad that we spent so much time together – it gave them a lot of freedom, and time to do what they wanted to do.

June 1937 we were getting ready for graduation, making preparations for the  “Prom” which was at a hotel in Chicago, and I had a formal dress and cape.  My date was named Bill Thompson who was a good friend.  All these things were going on when a very traumatic thing happened.  On Memorial Day there was a demonstration at one of the local steel mills and Hilding Anderson, a cousin who lived with us and was like an older brother (he was in his mid-20s), and who was there merely as a spectator, was shot by the Chicago Police who fired into the crowd.  Hilding died a day or so later.

PHOTO OF HILDING ANDERSON BEING ATTENDED BY DOCTOR AFTER SHOOTING (Source:  Pullman Museum)

This put a real pall on my graduation, but my wise parents decided that I should still go on with the party plans, and so I did and I’m sure it was better for all concerned.  I got all dressed up in my floor-length gown, high heels and corsage, and had a ball literally.

My dad had now purchased a new car – it was a tan Dodge and I think it had a heater in it (the old Studebaker did not) and he was in seventh heaven.  In the summer of 1937 we took a long trip out to New York and this was a big deal.  My dad, of course, did all the driving and he was a nice man but a terrible driver, but we went out and back with no problems.  We visited Niagara Falls that trip and I think we rode the Pennsylvania Turnpike for a bit.  This was a new endeavor in highway travel.  We visited some sights in New York (Empire State and Grant’s Tomb) and we spent several days in a hotel.  When we were en route we always stayed at “Tourist Homes” – private homes and the forerunner of the Bed and Breakfast idea.

When I look back on my “teen” years, I think there was a minimum of trouble between my parents and me.  I’m sure there were some spats and minor incidents but our family was not very demonstrative in affection – kissing and hugging was not the norm.  They showed their love for me by letting me make my own decisions pretty much and by showing me that they had complete faith that I would do the right thing, and I always felt I could talk to them if I needed to.  We still did not cook meals at home so the dinner hour conversations that most families have didn’t exist; we got up at different times so there was no breakfast table either.  As I look back on it now, it seems odd but I accepted that way of life.

In the summer of 1937 Mr. Ramclow changed jobs and the family moved to an apartment on the far north side of Chicago.  It was in the area of California and Foster Avenues and almost at the end of the Ravenswood elevated line.  Mae and I had already been accepted at Northwestern University so our families had an arrangement that I would live at the Ramclows during the school week and be home weekends.  Tuition at Northwestern was $150 per semester -- $300 per year.

To get to Evanston we walked about 4 blocks to Foster, took the bus east to the elevated station, took the “El” to Howard Street and finally into Evanston, and then had about a mile to walk to get to the campus.  I can’t recall how much time we spent travelling but it must have been about an hour or more each way.

At that time, sororities and fraternities were the social hubs of the University.  It may still be that way.  Our first few weeks were spent at “Rushing” parties.  Freshmen were invited to “Teas” – if they were approved, they graduated to a luncheon and if accepted, they had a gala.  Mae and I went to many of these but finally decided that this was a little rich for our blood.  This may have been a mistake because as time went on we did not make many friends on campus.  Also, by not living on campus, we were unable to go to various get-togethers, parties, and activities that are normal college activities in the evenings.  That year literally became “all work and no play”.

Back home on the south side of Chicago, I had developed a strong friendship with a young man by the name of Stan Johanson.  Money was rather scarce and our dates often consisted of taking a double decker bus that run on South Shore Drive, followed the lake and ended up at Howard Street – it probably took about three hours round trip.  We went to movies and had small get-togethers in homes.  He showed no inclination for more schooling and had started to learn the basics in construction – his father was a building contractor.  We dated about two years but gradually we drifted apart and we went our separate ways.

Looking back, I must have been a bundle of energy.  While going to Northwestern all day, I took an evening course in typing at a small college, North Park, that was located on Foster and was within walking distance.  Many weekends I worked at the restaurant.

I’d like to take a minute to give you some idea of what the Swedish Restaurant was like.  The dining room was modest – ten or twelve tables, but always covered with white tablecloths.  Then there were two sections of counters complete with stools.  The menu was typically Swedish – meat and potatoes and gravy.  I think prices were moderate.  The menus changed daily so that was a daily chore.  It was before Xerox machines so one copy was printed by hand and then there was a strange gelatinous machine – I think it was called a hectograph or something like that – that served as a duplicator.  Coffee was made in large urns and I think was about 5 cents a cup.  Those days there was no air conditioning but the place was cooled by two large ceiling fans.  There were no automatic dishwashing machines – this was done by hand by hired employees.

HECTOGRAPH, USED TO MAKE MENU COPIES AT RESTAURANT

Mae and I finished our first year of college and we both felt that we were missing something, and decided to drive to Rock Island and check out a school we had heard of, Augustana College.  Mrs. Ramclow went with us.  Even though it was summer and school wasn’t in session, we liked what we saw.  The campus was lovely, the enrollment probably about 1000 or less, a very friendly atmosphere.  After the cool, aloof year at Northwestern, it was just what we were looking for.

We went back to Chicago, thought it over and decided that was for us.  It wasn’t hard to convince my parents that we wanted to go away to school, live on campus and really enjoy our college years as well as study.  However, just about that time my mother retired from the restaurant.  She sold her share of the business to my Aunt Hildur.  This put a dent in our income and at that time economic conditions were not good, but somehow things worked out.

The minister of Tabor Lutheran Church was Frank Carlson – a very pleasant man who spent some time at the restaurant and was a dear friend – heard that I planned to go to Augustana College.  He told me that if I would become a Lutheran (rather than continue to be a Methodist) he could save me half on tuition.  I was not very devout to begin with, so after one evening of instruction the tuition payment was $75 a semester instead of $150 when I entered Augustana.  This, plus money my parents gave me for room and board (the figure that comes to my mind is $700 or $800 but I could be wrong) and a promise of a campus job of some kind, made it clear sailing for my sophomore year of college.

Augustana College is in Rock Island, Illinois, one of the Quad Cities located about 150 miles west of Chicago.  In September, 1938, Mae and I arrived at the girls’ dorm.  All the women were housed in one building, and Mae and I had previously decided not to room together but to spread our wings and really mingle with other students.  We were still the best of friends, but I think we both realized that we were too dependent on each other and that this was the good time to start being our individual selves.

OLD MAIN AT AUGUSTANA COLLEGE, ROCK ISLAND, ILLINOIS

My roommate was a delightful, happy girl from Rockford with the very Scandinavian name of Mary Louise Skoog (rhymes with Scrooge).  Mae’s roommate was also from Rockford and her name was Shirley Telander.  The room itself was pretty nondescript – two beds, two desks, two small closet areas -- but we could choose our own spreads and draperies.  Each wing had a communal bath and shower room.  Needless to say, it took no time at all to get acquainted.

I have never ceased to be grateful for the year and a half spent at Augie.  I made friendships there that have lasted 50-plus years, and of course it was here I was destined to meet Elm.  And, incidentally, it was here that Mae met Bob Tappendorf.  One can’t help but wonder what our lives would have been like if we had continued at Northwestern and never transferred to Augustana.  Awesome!

Back in Chicago my parents were able to spend a lot of time with their friends at last.  They went to lodge activities and had a Pinochle Club and dinner parties.  After so many years of the restaurant-type existence, they took advantage of this new freedom.  There was one thing I never could quite figure out about my parents, and that was their political views. They were very Republican although they were of the poor working class, but as near as I can guess is that in their minds, all Swedes (and other Northern Europeans) voted Republican whereas the Irish, Italians, and Poles were the Democrats.

There were sororities and fraternities at Augustana but they were not national and were merely like small clubs and they were very undemanding and did not restrain friendships in any way.  As an example, Mary Skoog belonged to the Kappa Epsilon sorority and I was a Kappa Tau.

Besides all the social activities, we did manage to study.  I had decided to major in Education and get a minor in Biological Sciences.  Academically, the atmosphere was great and I felt I was learning something.

When I look at yearbook pictures of 1938, we all look like clones as far as dress was concerned – cardigan sweaters, skirts, saddle shoes and bobby sox.  Another thing that comes to mind is that we were all poor – no one had a lot of cash and a date could consist of a Coke at the corner drugstore or a ride to Davenport on the ferry boat, or on a really big occasion, a movie.  Our wants were small and we did a lot of walking and in groups, a lot of group singing.  (Songs like “Working on the Railroad”, “Dinah”, “If You Get to Heaven”, etc.)   Pleasant memories!

BOBBY SOX AND SADDLE SHOES

A couple of times a year, the sororities and fraternities would have formal dances at some hotel or country club in the Quad cities.  Being a Lutheran-sponsored school, dancing was not permitted on campus (except for country type or ethnic dancing).  At that time, I dated Russ Pearson who was from Chicago and a super dancer.

It was in the second semester that I first met Elm.  I knew who he was because May Skoog really thought he was something, and I think they had a couple of dates.   As near as I can remember the girls’ dorm had an open-house and it was at this time that Elm and I went to the corner drugstore and had a Coke.  That was the beginning.

Fran Lindstrom (Zaruba) and Doris Quist (Anderson) lived in Rock Island, but the campus was small so I knew them, and Elm, Bill Zaruba, and Willard Anderson were good friends, so it was just natural that we would triple-date.  The six of us have met periodically for 50-plus years some way or another, although we have often lived miles apart.

After making sure that Skoogie (my roommate was affectionately called) was not too upset or angry with me (and she wasn’t), Elm and I kind of fell into a regular dating pattern.  During the summer, Elm worked at Camp Rotary (near Rockford) as a counselor, and I visited him there.  It was also that summer that I met his parents and his sisters, who lived in Rockford.

The first semester of my Junior year went well until I had a run-in with Dr. Wallin, the education professor.  In my opinion, he was the poorest example of a teacher I had ever seen.  It was then I realized that unless I changed my major I would have to take 1 ½ more years of courses with him.  It was then I abandoned the idea of becoming a teacher.

At home, the economy was worsening.  My dad’s hours were cut, my mother was doing some odd jobs and money was scarce and I felt I was spending money but now I had no idea what I wanted to do.  Also, at this time, there were rumblings of trouble in Europe --  Hitler was becoming noticed.  I guess all these worked together and I left Augustana in mid-term, went back to Chicago and enrolled in Moser Business College, determined to get some skills that I could use to get a job. 

Moser was on Michigan Avenue and they offered an intensive course for people who had had two years of college.  It was 4 months and I have never worked so hard but at the end of the four months I could type 55-60 words a minute and take shorthand at 120 at least.  I have never regretted this move – through the years it has certainly been used.  At the end of the completion of the course, I was sent to many places in Chicago to gain experience in office procedures.  Sometimes for a couple of days, and/or a week at a time.  Some of the places were Dog World Magazine, James King Home for Old Men, and the University of Chicago Clinics.

DOG WORLD MAGAZINE, CELEBRATING 90TH YEAR

The Clinics were located at the west end of the campus and consisted of various hospitals – Billings, Lying-In, Bobs Roberts, to name a few.  It was accessible by streetcar, 79th Street west to Cottage Grove and Cottage Grove to 59th Street – it took maybe 30-45 minutes.  After a week as a temporary employee I was offered a permanent job at the salary of $75 a month.  This was considered excellent.  I took it and at last I felt self-sufficient and happy with what I was doing.

Meanwhile back at Augustana, Elm finished out his Senior year, graduating in June and we had been corresponding but I was unable to go to Rock Island for the graduation ceremonies.

Times were bad – there were no jobs available for college graduates, particularly Liberal Arts students who were not trained in a specific field.  Because our relationship was really firming up now, Elm came to Chicago to look for work.  He rented a room from some friends of my parents, about a block from our house and as I recall, he ate most of his meals with us.  He was hired at U.S. Steel (the same company my dad worked at) – in the office – and I think his salary was about $125 per month.

We were increasingly become aware that the problems in Europe were increasing by leaps and bounds, but it wasn’t until the Draft was organized that we realized how serious this thing was going to be.  We were in love, we both had jobs, we went to movies, museums, plays, and at Christmastime we were officially engaged and I got my diamond.  My parents were not surprised – they liked Elm and were happy for both of us.

I remember that New Year’s Eve.  We had decided to splurge.  Willard and Quisty, and Bill and Fran, came in from the Quad Cities and we met at the Sherman Hotel.  It was gala – dinner, drinks, favors, dancing, etc.  I think Gene Krupa was the orchestra and Frankie Laine was the featured singer, and needless to say it was a night to remember.  The boys all wore tuxedos and we girls had long formals.  The four of them had rooms at the Sherman but Elm and I dutifully took the Illinois Central train and arrived home in the wee hours.  Those days we were never concerned about being in Chicago late at night and we regularly walked the 5 or 6 blocks from the station to Manistee Avenue.  Sadly to say, we were unused to champagne and I think all six of us were a little “woozy” New Year’s Day.

 

          

SHERMAN HOTEL, CHICAGO ILLINOIS

 

GENE KRUPA, PLAYING AT SHERMAN HOTEL

The news from Europe was worsening – Willard joined the National Guard, and John Dolan, who was married to Elm’s sister Jean, and who was a Captain in the National Guard, urged Elm to enlist in the military.  Of course, he wanted no part of this.  Jobs were still scarce.  Bill Zaruba got a job at U.S. Steel (the same place Elm and my dad worked) – he did chemical testing of some kind and worked evenings.  He lived on the north side of Chicago and had about an hour’s drive.  This was of short duration.  As I recall, Willard’s first job was selling vitamins for pigs (a far cry from a career of an English major).  Fran Lindstrom worked in Springfield.  Elm and I plodded on.

Although we were engaged we had not made any plans for a wedding.  I think we wanted to wait until it was more feasible financially.  However, when it looked like the Draft was coming uncomfortably close, we decided to do it and hope that his 1-A status might change.  We decided on the evening of July 26, 1941.  This decision was made about July 1st so it was a frantic 3 or 4 weeks trying to plan a church wedding – invitations, bridal party members, arranging for the church, the soloist, the flowers, and all the details that are necessary – but somehow we did it.

We had one problem, however, that was rather hard to solve.  Elm’s parents were rather religious and they didn’t approve of beer or alcohol.  My family, including my aunts and uncles and my parents’ friends didn’t think much of a wedding without a keg of beer.  The reception after the wedding was held at my parents’ home.  The living room and dining room had small sandwiches, cake and coffee.  The backyard had lights, a keg of beer in the garage, music, and included many of our college friends.

I got a little ahead of myself.   Back to the wedding.  Our wedding party consisted of Mae Ramclow, Luella Hallberg, Sunny Larson, Willard Anderson, Bill Zaruba, and Don Johnson.  Willard, at his time, was in the Army and I think he was stationed in Tennessee but was able to get leave.

I had found a lovely long white wedding dress at a Loop bridal shop.  The bridesmaids all made their own dresses – blue and ankle length – and we decided on daisies for the bouquets.  My cap was like a little Dutch cap with a long veil attached.

As you can imagine, these days were rather hectic and the weekend of July 26th, 1941 (which incidentally also was my 22nd birthday) finally arrived.  Many of our bridal party were from out-of-town so my poor parents had to put up with people sleeping all over, and some of the males shared Elm’s room. 

The wedding was scheduled for 8:00 PM, so we arrived at the church in plenty of time.  It was hot and at that time there was no air conditioning.  Reverend Frank Carlson had been on vacation and was covered with poison ivy (there were fans blowing on him all during the ceremony).  The organ was playing, all the guests were seated, when there was a noticeable delay.  Would you believe, Elm had left the wedding ring on his dresser!  Fortunately, it was only a couple of blocks away and someone (I’m not sure who) went and got it.  Our soloist was Paul Larson, an Augustana classmate, and he sang the well-known wedding song, “Because”.

Sunny and Don were driving back to Rockford that night, so they drove us downtown and dropped us off at the Sherman Hotel where we had made a reservation.  Our honeymoon was one night in the city of Chicago.  Sunday afternoon we were back at Manistee Avenue, where my mother had made dinner for Elm’s family – mostly the Rockford people.  And on Monday morning we were both back to work.  The party was over.

We rented a basement level furnished apartment on 82nd Street and Ellis Avenue – a couple of miles west of Manistee Avenue.  It was a one-room efficiency.  We brought a few of our personal belongings to trim it up.  Between us, we had an income of $200 per month and I think we paid $50 per month for rent.  We had a small kitchen, so we could cook our meals.  This was a fun, carefree time – an extended honeymoon.

EAST 82ND STREET AND ELLIS AVENUE, LOCATION OF FIRST APARTMENT FOR AD AND ELM

It didn’t last long – three months or so.   On November 3, 1941, Elm was drafted into the Army.  We were not at war and it was only for one year.  I moved back home, packed away our wedding gifts, and was prepared to wait out the year.  Little did we know that it would be four years later that we resumed our marriage.

Elm’s first base was Rockford, Illinois and it was here at Camp Grant that he got his first taste of army life.  Because his parents and sisters lived there and he was able to get some time to visit them, I quit my job at the University of Chicago and moved out to Rockford. 

I got a job working for a Sig Sandeen, who was in insurance and investments and almost all his clients were little old ladies, mostly widows – I was never sure that all was legit but at the time, all I was interested in was the money, not ethics.

December 7, 1941 was the bombing of Pearl Harbor.  It was Sunday morning, and we were all in Rockford when the news came on the radio.  Now it was definite – we were at war and the outlook was pretty grim.  Not only were we at war with the Japanese but we were now involved in the European conflict.

At the end of December, Elm was on a troop train heading for McCord Field near Tacoma, Washington.  Willard and Quisty were married and neither of us could make the wedding, and shortly after that I returned to Chicago and fortunately got my job back at the University Clinics.  When I look back on it now there were some areas that were blocked off and closed to the public, and these were the first atomic laboratories under the stands at Stagg Field.

STAGG FIELD, SITE OF FIRST SELF-SUSTAINING NUCLEAR REACTION

When Elm and I were separated, we wrote often – sometimes every day – even if it was just a short note.  Finally I got a letter saying that he was on the move again.  This time he was based at Esler Field near the town of Alexandria, Louisiana – a stone’s throw from New Orleans. 

ESLER FIELD, ALEXANDRIA LA, 1941

Willard and Quisty were living at an army base in Tullahoma, Tennessee and I took a train to Nashville and Elm came north and met me and we visited them for several days.  It just happened that Jean and John Dolan were in the same area, but John was a Captain and they moved in different circles.  Bill Zaruba had enlisted in the Navy and was at Annapolis and became an Ensign, and he was out east somewhere.

At work, at the University Clinics, I became reacquainted with Joyce Welin.  We had both graduated from Hirsch High School together but were not close friends.  We would have lunch together and we discovered that her fiancée, Ed Belyea, was also stationed near Alexandria, Louisiana although he was at an Infantry Camp and Elm was with the Air Force.  The little town of Alexandria was surrounded by service camps.

In May we made arrangements to take a Greyhound Bus to New Orleans.  Elm and Ed got leaves and met us there.  It was a long, tiresome ride but it was cheaper than the train.  We stayed at the Monteleone Hotel in the French Quarter, had coffee at the Morning Call, dinner at the Court of the Two Sisters, etc. and had a really super holiday.  I think it was like a long weekend – maybe four days. 

COURT OF TWO SISTERS, NEW ORLEANS

The four of us then took a bus to Alexandria.  The town was wall-to-wall servicemen and we tried hotels, private tourist homes and in desperation we contacted a cab driver who drove us to the outskirts of town where there were two large farmhouses.  Joyce got a room at one and I got one at the other (they were across the rod from each other).  When Elm went back to camp and told his friends where we were staying, they informed him that they were “whorehouses”.  We were such innocents.

Ed and Elm had to be in camp all day so Joyce and I stayed there – we walked a lot and played a lot of gin rummy and we were so thankful we had each other to be with.

I hadn’t been home long when I realized I had missed my menstrual period and I had an uneasy feeling.  Lying-In Hospital was very near my work – I took some time off and went for an exam.  Sure enough, I was pregnant.  The day I wrote Elm to tell him he was to be a father, he wrote me that their unit was alerted for overseas duty and that he would be at Fort Dix in New Jersey for a short time.

Meanwhile, Helen (Elm’s sister) and Walt (Helen’s husband) had decided to get married but at that time a lot of Lutheran ministers wouldn’t marry a couple if one had been divorced (as Walt had been).  I called my dear friend, Reverend Frank Carlson, and he performed the ceremony at Tabor Church in Chicago.  Four months later, she was pregnant too.

Bill and Fran Zaruba were on their honeymoon in Newark, and Elm was going to meet them for dinner but his unit whipped out in a big hurry and he couldn’t contact them for security reasons.  They waited, but he had already shipped out.

I was fortunate – the first couple of months I had little discomfort.  Lying-In was a maternity hospital and they had a complete system of care: pre-natal, delivery and hospital stay – one price covered all, but it was a clinic and you had no choice of doctor.  I’m sure it was in the economy  class.  It was so close, I could make my regular visits during my lunch hour.

On the home front, gas was rationed.  You had to have coupons for meat and shoes.  Many items, like sugar, laundry detergent, and coffee were hard to come by and people would stand in lines for hours to purchase these items.  Rumors that the Jewel would have a supply of coffee spread fast.  But these were inconveniences – at the time there was a “nervous” feeling.  War was escalating.  Elm and I still wrote every day and sometimes mail was held up somewhere and I’d get 10 or 12 letters at a time.  Elm’s letters were all censored and he used very clever, devious means to clue me in on where he was.  As an example, when the troop ship landed at Durban, South Africa, he very pointedly made remarks about “Deanna” (at that time, Deanna  Durbin was a movie star), and I took out the atlas.  Occasionally, there would be a remark by a censor indicating approval or disapproval.

I worked at the Clinics until the end of December.  I was now 7 months pregnant and had no problems, but it was getting more difficult getting around.  My parents had a third bedroom, so I bought a crib and a day bed and began making some preparations.  The day before Phil was born, February 9, 1943, I was painting the walls (he was not due until the end of February) in this room and I’d get up on the ladder and have to go to the bathroom, five minutes later the same sequence.  I was losing my water in dribs and drabs.   That night my dad drove me to Lying-In Hospital and Phil was born at 10:00 AM on February 9, 1943.  He was a beautiful bundle – all 5 lbs. 8 oz. of him – and my mother was sitting by my bed when I woke from the anesthesia to tell me that I had a baby boy. 

We contacted the Red Cross and a couple of weeks later, Elm, who was on a Libyan desert, found out that he was a father.

At that time, the normal hospital stay was about two weeks – I think we could dangle our legs over the sides of the beds on our sixth day of confinement.

My parents were so wonderful at this time.  They were very sympathetic and bent over backwards to be helpful.  I think they were really excited about being grandparents even though this really changed their lives.  It was no longer peaceful and quiet.

Phil was not the easiest baby to take care of.  I was nursing him, but apparently did not have enough milk so I had to make an additional formula.  Feedings took about 40 minutes.  At that time we had bottles that had to be washed and sterilized – a big project.  I really missed Elm and I felt badly that he was missing this wonderful time.

Fortunately, I had always had a good camaraderie with Elm’s parents and his sisters.  They were all so supportive and helpful to me – more like an acquired sister than a sister-in-law.  This is still true and I’ve never ceased to be thankful for that.

Elm’s oldest sister, Florence, was married to Charley Haussner and they lived on the north side of Chicago.  They had been married a good number of years but had no children.  In March of 1943 they had an opportunity to adopt a baby.  I went with Charley to pick up John at the hospital as a precaution so that the mother would not see Florence.

Jim, Helen and Walt’s first child, was born on June 14, 1943, so in a period of six months or less, Grandma and Grandpa Olson had three new grandsons:  Phil, John, and Jim.

Phil grew rapidly and he was a dynamo – cute as a button with his blonde, curly hair, he could not help but get into one mess after another.  I’m sure my parents breathed a sigh of relief when he was in bed for the night.  He started to creep early and in six months’ time was investigating everything.

I was lonesome and every month or so I’d pack a suitcase, carry it and Phil to the Illinois Central suburban train, to 12th Street where I could get a train to Rockford.  Elm’s family welcomed us and we had a good time.  There were a lot of people there.  Besides Mom and Dad there was Helen, Elsie, Paul and Jean was there with Pat and John (her stepchildren).  John Sr. was a Lieutenant Colonel now and stationed in the South Pacific.

When Phil was about 7 months old, I had a chance to work at the Farm Foundation located on Michigan Avenue, south of Van Buren.  Mae Tappendorf worked there as a secretary, and they needed some temporary clerical help.  My mother agreed to take care of Phil and I jumped at the chance.  It was fun getting dressed up and going to work in the morning.  I was very busy and had little time to feel sorry for myself.  The money came in handy because the army wasn’t very generous with wives and children.  Once in awhile, I would go to a U.S.O. center because they were always in need of hostesses.  There we would dance, drink coffee, and give the GIs a chance to talk.

My aunt Hildur had sold the Swedish Restaurant and opened a new, larger place on the corner of 79th Street and Manistee Avenue.  There was also a tavern attached to it.  It was called the Hil-Jo (Hildur and John).  My cousin Jane married a fellow by the name of Helge Johnson and the four of them worked together and had a very prosperous business.

CORNER OF 79TH STREET AND MANISTEE AVENUE, LOOKING SOUTH DOWN MANISTEE – FORMER LOCATION OF THE HIL-JO

About this time, they wanted to buy out my mother’s share of Cable Lake and reluctantly she decided to sell it.  My parents loved that place and it was a hard decision to make.

When Phil was a year old he was walking and talking.  I recall his first sentence was “Moon in a ky” and my father he called “Peco” and his name was “Femup”… but Jim called him “Foop”.

All four of our parents had to put up with a lot those days.  I’ll give you an example that is still very clear in my memory.  I was in Rockford and Phil was probably about a year and half old.  He and Jim were great buddies.  Helen and I decided to walk up to the grocery store and leave the little “darlings” with Grandma and Grandpa.  We were gone maybe an hour but when we opened the back door the kitchen looked like a tornado had hit it.  All the doors to the rest of the house were closed.  Grandma and Grandpa were sitting at the table calmly sipping their coffee and sugar lumps.  The floor was completely covered with pots, pans, lids, canned goods – anything that could be reached – and Phil and Jim were laughing and having the time of their lives.

I’m not going to write much about Elm’s tour of duty, but quickly I want to mention that he had gone from Africa to Italy and Sicily, and from there to India.  Finally I had a letter saying that he would be coming home and that all mail was to stop while en route. 

Thanksgiving Day, 1944, Elm called from San Diego.  We were all in Rockford and just about to have dinner.  I’m sure you can picture the elation that everyone felt.  We all gave a little prayer of thanks that he was back in America.

A couple of days later I took the train to Chicago and met Elm at the Illinois Central Station, leaving Phil in Rockford.  He was very thin, maybe about 120 pounds and his skin was yellow from atabrine, but he was all smiles.  It was then that he told me that he had had several bouts of malaria, and feared that he was on the verge of another.  We spent the night at a hotel in Chicago and the next day we made a quick trip to visit my parents on the South Side, and Florence and Charley Haussner on the north side.  There were tears and hugs everywhere, but nothing could surpass what happened next.

We arrived in Rockford, via an Illinois Central train (about a 3-hour ride) and as we pulled in the station, we spotted Elm’s parents and, I believe, Helen and Walt, and then the tears and hugs and prayers began again.

While Elm was overseas, I had shown Phil pictures of his dad and tried to prepare him somewhat, but he was not yet two years old.  However, the first meeting of father and son went beautifully and it was only minutes before they accepted each other and then there were more hugs, kisses, tears, and chatter.

Elm was right about fearing he was going to have another bout of malaria.  He had been home a couple of days and then was forced to go to bed for a week or more.  He recovered, and we had a gala Christmas both in Rockford and Chicago.

Shortly after Christmas, Elm and I boarded a train for Miami and once again my parents agreed to take care of Phil.  We were bound for a two-week vacation, courtesy of the U.S. Army.  It was an all-expenses paid vacation.  We stayed at a hotel on Collins Avenue in Miami Beach, we had meals at the mess hall, went to parties, played cards, sat on the beach, and had a great time.  A second honeymoon!

When Elm found out that he was to be stationed there, I went home and made some preparations for Phil and me to move down to Miami.  Elm found an apartment in Miami – it was a furnished apartment built on the top of a garage and it was located a couple of blocks from the Orange Bowl.  It wasn’t fancy but adequate – living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bath.  The bus stop was only a block away so Elm had no trouble getting to Miami Beach.

Elsie, Elm’s sister, was having some minor problems, and she agreed to accompany Phil and me on the train to spend some time in Miami with us.  We came down in style – in a roomette.  It was quite a long trip, but somehow we managed to survive Phil’s energy… but I sure was glad that Elsie was with me.  We had packed a lot of edibles so even our trips to the dining car were few and far between.

We had a nice time in Miami.  Elsie got a job with our landlord, taking care of their four year old, David Lerner, so she moved next door.  I think we paid $50 a month rent, but somehow we managed.  Phil spent many hours running in the field of the Orange Bowl – expending his energy and I had good, clear visibility – he couldn’t get into any trouble.  He was now a “terrible two”, cute, loveable, but always into trouble.  He thought he could do anything.  Elm had a couple more malaria attacks – they were coming every two months almost to the day.  He could go to the hospital for a week or so.  We kind of wondered about his future – what kind of a job would allow him sick leave every couple of months?

ORANGE BOWL, CIRCA 1945

Then it really came – Hiroshima was attacked and, of course, shortly after, Japan surrendered.  The war was over!  It was the summer of 1945.  Elm and I had been married four years.  Elsie, Phil and I got a ride back to Chicago with some mutual friends who lived in Miami, and by the end of September we were back on Manistee Avenue.  There was one little hitch – I discovered I was pregnant (this wasn’t planned).  My parents welcomed us back, Elm received his discharge from the army, and all was right with the world.  The war was over, and we had all survived.

PART 2 -- Raising Our Family

As I’m writing this, trying to remember things that happened so long ago, I find I kind of tend to classify my life in sections.  Section 1 includes my young days, marriage and World War II.  Second 2 is our early days, raising our family and seeing our three sons married and out of the nest.  Section 3 will be our retirement and grandchildren.

It was now job-hunting time.  I told Elm he could not accept any job that paid less than $250 a month.  He thought I was out of my mind.  After all, he worked at $125 a month before World War II and head lived on a very small salary ever since.  He had an offer for a teaching job in Hawaii, and a manufacturing job in Miami, but he had spent so many years away from home he wanted no part of these.  He finally agreed on a position in the Engineering Department of the Illinois Central Railroad.

Meanwhile, we had no savings and we lived with my parents – sharing expenses and work.  My mother had part-time jobs here and there but I had Phil, I was pregnant, and I was not able to work.  We had a good relationship with both my uncles Victor and Emil, and they also spent a lot of time at 7944 Manistee.

Dick was born on April 9, 1946, also at Lying-In Hospital.  The big difference was that Elm was at the hospital this time, unlike when Phil was born, and although I had to leave him in the lobby, I knew he was near. 

I have to backtrack for a little anecdote.  April 9th, I woke a little queasy.  Elm had gone to work and about noon I called him and said he’d better come home because I thought this was the day.  As with Phil, my water broke in “dribs and drabs”.  I was on the phone with Elm silently dripping water on the linoleum when Phil walked by, eyed the situation, and said “Mom, why do you wait so long?”  That cracked me up.

The delivery was normal – Dick weighted more than Phil, 6 lbs. 13 oz. and was another beautiful baby.   This time I think I was in the hospital about ten days.

My mother took care of Phil who was now 3 years old, but somehow or other he eluded her one afternoon and a friend of mother’s found him wandering west on 79th Street about 7 or 8 blocks from home, “looking for Mommy”.  Luckily, she brought him home.

We lived with my folks for a couple of years and finally I had an insurance policy that came due -- $1000.  This we deposited on a house in Hazel Crest, a suburb southwest of Chicago, on the Matteson Illinois Central line.  The house at 16832 Head Avenue cost us $9650 and we had a $1000 down payment and a 4% mortgage.  The house was new, had two bedrooms, a full basement, an unfinished attic, a coal furnace and sounded like heaven.  There was one minor drawback – we had no car and the house was about a mile from the train station.

16832 HEAD AVENUE, HAZEL CREST IL

We had a reunion with the Andersons and the Zarubas downtown in Chicago – I think we were at the Blackhawk.  We had all survived the war years, the Zarubas were living in Chicago, the Andersons went back to Rock Island, and we were living with my parents.

Our house was finally ready and on a rainy day in March or April we moved in.  We had purchased a refrigerator and washing machine in Chicago and had miscellaneous pieces of furniture in a U-Haul truck.  Elsie was with us and between the two of us we were settled with a minimum of trouble.

Living in Hazel Crest was a lot of fun – we were all young, had small children, no one had a lot of money.  We made a lot of friends, had a lot of “coffee klatches” and weekend parties.  The grocery stores were about a mile away and without a car, it required a lot of carrying, but we learned to cope.  Jean Gee Lobell and I played many hours of Scrabble and drank many cups of coffee those days.

On holidays such as Easter and Thanksgiving, we often took the train to Rockford – walking to the Suburban train and boarding the Rockford Train at 12th Street.   We did everything the hard way – carrying suitcases and sometimes kids.

Financially we were living from payday to payday, unable to save a penny and sometimes wondering if we had food enough to last the week.  Somehow we managed.  Then we were advised of a plan whereby we could buy meat in large quantities, like half of a cow.  This plus a large freezer was a godsend, both for availability and easier shopping.  We paid for this monthly.

I was not altogether happy when I discovered I was pregnant again because I felt we could not afford another child at that time, but I became reconciled to the idea and, of course, kept thinking “girl”.  David was born at a hospital in Blue Island on June 2, 1950 – I think he weighed a little over 6 lbs. and was delivered by Dr. Gaetano.  This time I was walking a few hours after delivery – ideas certainly had changed in the medical world.  I was driven to the hospital by a neighbor, Bill Conn, who happened to be home but Elm was notified and he was at the hospital when David was born.  The next day he brought Phil and Dick out to Rockford where they stayed for a couple of weeks.

The expressions on the faces of Phil who was 7 and Dick who was 4, when they saw their brother for the first time lying in a basinet was something I will never forget.  It was a combination of awe, amazement, and wonderment that this had happened while they were in Rockford.  Unfortunately, the spell didn’t last too long and they were soon back to their old squabbling selves.

When David was about 6 months old, I started to work at the Fair Department Store on State Street in Chicago.  I worked Thursday evenings and all day Saturday as a clerk in the Children’s’ Department.  I had never done that kind of work but I liked it – the hours were right (Father was home), I got out of the house and away from the kids for a few hours, and I made a little money.   In addition, I worked at home addressing thousands of envelopes for various charities like Boys Town, etc. – again I made a little money.  I also remember making metal bracelets, clipping them and adding locks – more spare time work.

THE FAIR DEPARTMENT STORE, STATE STREET IN CHICAGO

Meanwhile, television came on the horizon and some of our more affluent neighbors had sets in their living rooms, and we were sometimes invited to watch some special shows with them.  We tried to ignore this trend, but when we saw Dick going from house to house at “Howdy Doody” time and not always being asked in, we relented and purchased our first television set – the year was probably 1951 or 1952.  Up until this time, we had been content with radio and hi-fi.

THE HOWDY DOODY SHOW

We had not had the set very long when Phil and Dick decided to clean the screen.  The thought was nice, except they used steel wool.  From then on we had a lot of scratches to contend with.

I’m not sure of the year but it was about this time that John Dolan died of cancer.  He had been very ill for at least a year.  Jean had been living in Springfield and she decided to move back to Rockford.

We had a small group called “The Outsiders”, made up of spouses of the Olsons – Walt Peterson, Eric Juhlin (Florence’s husband), John Dolan, Phyllis Olson (Paul’s wife) and me – and we always claimed that it was necessary to have unity in coping with the Olson Clan.

When John Haussner was maybe about four, Florence and Charley were divorced and she moved back to Rockford.  She lived with Helen and Walk for awhile and then got a job working for Eric Juhlin, who had lost his wife and had two children to take care of.  You know the rest – they married and have had a good long life together.

We had occasional get-togethers with the Zarubas and Andersons and, of course, all the children.  Zarubas had three, Andersons two, and we had three – all boys with the exception of Judy Zaruba.  In the late spring of 1954 we all met for a picnic at White Pines State Park near Oregon, Illinois.  The place was lovely, we had a great time, but the flies were very bad.  I have no proof but I think this place was suspect in what happened next.

A Sunday morning in August, Dick and David were playing in front of the house and David came in and said his head hurt.  I gave him some aspirin and put him to bed.  About an hour later, Dick came in with the same complaint and got the same treatment.  Phil, I suppose, was off with his buddies.  I assumed the kids were getting a cold or something.  When I took their temperature, they both had fevers but I don’t think very high – nothing that could have alerted me.

That evening I carried David to the toilet,  and his legs buckled under him – he couldn’t stand up.  We called the doctor, he came to the house and diagnosed David as having polio.  For many years, polio had been a dreaded summer plague but there again, it was something that happens to “other people”.

I forgot to mention earlier that we bought an old used car from Bill Conn.  It was no great shakes but it ran and provided transportation at last.

Dr. Gaetano told us that we had to drive to the Contagious Hospital in the area of Cook County Hospital and leave David there.  He said after examining Dick that we might have to bring him in later.  Meanwhile he stayed with Dick until my parents got there.

The hospital was a dismal place but we had to leave David there.  We were told that polio had to run its course – there was no way to stop the progress of the disease.  We were not permitted to visit or see David for about a week.  I can only imagine what thoughts a 4-year-old might have to be left with strangers unless he was too ill to care.

Elm and I drove home and found that Dick was feeling OK.  Our neighbors were very concerned – not only for us but for their children who might have been with David.  I alerted the Andersons and Zarubas to watch their children closely.  The only word we had from the hospital was an impersonal “as well as can be expected”.

After a week or so I moved David to the Illinois Central Hospital at 57th Street and Stony Island Avenue (near the Museum of Science and Industry).  We rode in an ambulance.  The prognosis was that his one leg was affected and that they would start therapy immediately.  David was in this hospital until Christmas – the darling of all the nurses and therapists.  We were able to see him two afternoons a week and it was during this time he taught himself to read.

ILLINOIS CENTRAL HOSPITAL ON S. STONY ISLAND AVENUE, CHICAGO

The medical bills piled up and our hospital insurance company, Banker’s Life, notified us that they would insure the family but not David because he had a chronic ailment.  The March of Dimes offered us a lot of help and somehow we survived this too.

When David came home he wore a long leg brace and also wore a back brace but with the aid of crutches he gradually got used to walking.  I had been given instructions at the hospital on daily therapy and stretching maneuvers, and we did these faithfully every day.  Two days a week we went to the Illinois Central Hospital for regular therapy.  This entailed the walk (carrying David) to the train station, the ride to Chicago, and another couple of blocks from the station to the hospital.  There were some times that Jean Gee Lobell would drive us and her girls, Jan and Ruth, came along for the ride.

The announcement that the Salk vaccine had been discovered came that spring, too late to help David but a godsend for mankind.  We had been helped by the March of Dimes and David had been referred as a possible “Poster Boy” for their annual campaign.  This was fun.  He had his picture taken with Fred McMurray and June Haver (movie stars), Richard Nixon (then Vice President), and appeared on the Morris B. Sachs Amateur Hour television show.  His picture was all over Chicago on billboards.  Among other things, he got a Captain’s uniform from American Airlines.  In one way all this activity was good for all of us – it got us out of the house and gave us a lot less time to feel sorry for ourselves.

DAVID, WITH VP RICHARD NIXON, 1955

The summer of 1955 we decided to take separate vacations.  Elm and Phil went fishing with Walt and Jim.  David went to Rockford and Dick and I had a fabulous vacation in New Orleans.  I think Dick was about 9 years old.  Because Elm worked for the Illinois Central, we got a pass on the train and all we had to pay for was the roomette.  We stayed at the Monteleone in the French Quarter, did a lot of sight-seeing, ate at some posh French restaurants and we got a little chance to know each other.  The greatest plum of all turned out to be an arcade, near the hotel and for $1 or so Dick would spend an entire afternoon – giving me time to read or do whatever I wanted.

MONTELEONE HOTEL, NEW ORLEANS

When we came back I got a job at a factory in Homewood.  I worked four or five evenings a week and did “coil winding”.  It wasn’t great, but it was money.  This didn’t last long because Elm was getting more and more discontented with his job at the Illinois Central and applied for a position as Specifications Writer with the Ralph Burke Company located at O’Hare Field (many miles from Hazel Crest).  He got the job – he made more money and he really seemed to like it.  We realized he couldn’t drive that distance very long, so we made preparations to move.  We sold our house with no problems but we had to be out by January.

FORMER SITE OF RALPH H. BURKE COMPANY, 506 HIGGINS ROAD, PARK RIDGE IL

Meanwhile, we looked for a house in the northern suburbs.  We finally decided on a house in a newly-formed subdivision called Hoffman Estates.  The model was a three-bedroom, 2 bath house near Higgins Road and Roselle Road.  The going cost was $12,500.  To us the house looked so large compared to our Hazel Crest house.  The address was to be 402 Apricot Street – the house wasn’t built yet but it was to be completed by March of 1956.

The end of the year came, we had to move, so we put our furniture in storage.  Elm bought a new used car, a red Lincoln, and we moved to Rockford to live with Helen and Walt for a couple of months.  Elm stayed with the Zarubas for awhile and with Phyllis’ (Paul’s wife) mother during the week.  Phil and Dick had to be transferred to Rockford schools.  Once again our lives were hectic, but we were so thankful to have family to turn to.

We were notified that we could move in March and Elm and I drove in to Hoffman Estates.  The house looked fine on the outside, but we immediately noticed that the house had settled on the north side and there was a definite slant to the floor.  We notified the builder and he said it would require work to fix the situation – maybe a couple of months.  Elm and I dejectedly returned to Rockford, and Helen and Walt were stuck with us until June.

On a Saturday in June, we did make the move.  The house was finished, but the streets were unpaved, the front and back lawns were not leveled and we had no telephone, but we were all happy and looking forward to the future – a new school and new friends.

Three or four days later (I don’t have the exact date) a State Trooper came to the door with the news that my dad had fallen down the back stairs of his house, had a skull fracture, and was at the South Shore Hospital.

Elm and I drove in that evening but he never did regain consciousness and died that night.  The next day, Jean came to stay with the boys and I went in to Chicago to be with my mother.

But life went one.  In September, Phil started high school, I think Dick was in 3rd or 4th grad and David was in 1st.  The high school was in Palatine so Phil had to be bused but Twinbrook School was only a couple of blocks away.  By now David was reading all the “directions to teachers” comments but he went along with the Dick and Jane bit until I informed the teacher, and then he was given library books to read.

In retrospect, neither Elm nor I handled Phil very well in his early high school days.  The times were changing – boys were wearing long hair, they were wearing blue jeans and the music was made by Elvis Presley, Little Richard, etc.  We had trouble adapting to these changes, and tempers flared those days.

Dick and David became involved in Little League baseball (Dave was a scorekeeper) and Dick was a good little athlete.  I joined a bowling group and we settled in to enjoy life in a new community, Hoffman Estates.  It was easy to make friends because the situation was identical to Hazel Crest – we were all fairly young, had children and were pretty much on the same economic level.  I joined the PTA, made a lot of brownies for bake sales, and became a typical suburban housewife.

HOFFMAN ESTATES PLAZA AND WATER TOWER, EARLY 1960s

In the summer of 1957 we took a trip around Lake Michigan.  We borrowed camping equipment from various friends and started off in pouring rain.  It rained all day and when we reached the camp in northern Michigan (Brimley), all the firewood was wet, and the ground was soaked.  We pitched our tent, blew up our air mattresses, and went to sleep with the loud roar of the fog horns.  During the night the mattresses deflated and we were a sorry mess.  After that things got better.  This was our first camping experience.

BRIMLEY STATE PARK, BRIMLEY MI

We made some changes and additions to our house – enclosing the open carport and adding a two-car garage.  We hired a carpenter but Elm and Phil did most of the work.  Then we added a large patio area complete with a barbecue pit and a spit.  After that, our social life really expanded.  Life consisted of parties, cookouts, a lot of friends and a close link with Rockford relatives.  We had many happy hours with Helen and Walt those days.

We became active in the Prince of Peace Lutheran Church.  Elm was on the building committee and I worked in the Sunday School.  Here we became good friends of Norm and Gloria Ann Dostal, and Paul and Carla Olson.   This friendship lasted many years.  Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for our church interest -- a couple of bad experiences with the clergy soured us.   One minister was anti-Jewish and one was anti-Catholic, and Elm and I deplored this kind of prejudice.

In 1959 my mother practically asked my permission to marry Henning Johnson, a widower who had been friends of my mother and dad for many years.  Both Elm and I were delighted because then she would not be alone.  She would come up to visit us on weekends but we all felt bad when we put her on the train Sunday evenings for her long trek back to the South Side of Chicago.  They had a church wedding in April and had about five years together.  They made the most of it – traveled some, and best of all had love and companionship.

I always felt the need to work and supplement our income but at the same time I felt I needed to be home during the day.  Because of that I opted to work evenings or nights and my secretarial training was put aside.  I sold bras and girdles at Crawford’s, a department store in Rolling Meadows, on Saturdays and Monday and Thursday evenings.  I even took a short course.

Needing more income, I worked at Illinois Tool in Des Plaines.  It was a factory job and I worked on machines that molded small plastic products.  My hours were 11:00 PM to 7:00 AM, and I worked 40 hours a week.

From there, I took a job at the Mark Lund Home – a home for retarded children, untrainable and uneducable and a haven for children born with birth defects.  The children ranged from a week old to about 14 or 15.  My position was like that of a practical nurse, I worked from 12 midnight to 8:00 AM and had full responsibility for 30 to 40 children.  Mostly I changed diapers and fed breakfast, some by bottles and some by hand.  It was not an easy job but I loved it because I felt I was doing some good and I realized that David’s small handicap was minimal compared to Spina Bifida, Down’s Syndrome,  Hydrocephalus and Tay Sachs disease.

Finally, the time came and I felt I could go to a day job – and I applied at the Schaumburg School District and accepted a position of secretary for the school nurse.  This was great because I had the summers off and all school holidays.  This job came to a screeching halt when Elm was elected to the School Board, and there could have been “a conflict of interests”.

I was unemployed a short while when a friend called and said they were organizing a public library in the area.  Although I was in my mid-forties at the time, I was hired for a part-time library assistant to the Librarian, Colleen Amundsen.  At the time I had no idea that I would spend the next twenty years there.

The decade of the 60s was a difficult one.  Phil graduated from high school and we hoped he would go to Augustana College, but he was averse to going to a liberal arts school, preferring engineering.  He got a job at International Harvester but continued to live at home.

In 1962 Dick and David went with us on a lovely camping trip to the Rocky Mountains.  Phil was working and unable to go.  We had fairly good equipment by now and all went well.  We camped up in the mountains and I still remember the bitter cold at night.  We returned home after a couple of weeks to find that Elm’s father had died and been buried, and fortunately Phil had represented our family at the funeral.

Shortly after that, Walt died very suddenly, and now I’m leading up to the year 1964 which undoubtedly takes the prize for being bad.  In May of 1964, Henning had a stroke and died.  In July, David had his leg amputated at the knee.  His doctor, Dr. Lidge, felt the leg was so flail and weak it was useless.  He felt that maybe, with an artificial limb, David would have more stability and his hope was that he would be able to walk without crutches.  In September, my mother died at the age of 71.  In October, we were in a very serious automobile accident (we were returning from Dave’s first walking lesson with his new limb) and David broke the leg above the amputation.  He was in one hospital and I, with a slight concussion, was in another.  Needless to say, I couldn’t wait for a new year.

Dick was a Junior in high school when he decided to go to Shimer College in Mount Carroll, Illinois.  They accepted early entrants and his grades were good and he qualified, so with a little help from us and some government loans he did it.  In effect, he completed his Senior year in high school and first year of college in one.

TWO SHIMER STUDENTS IN DEZENDORF HALL, 1968

I have a little trouble getting dates straight – somewhere in the mid 60s Phil joined the Navy and spent some time in Okinawa.  He met Mary Stage, and they had a beautiful church wedding on July 15, 1967.  That took care of Number One son.

Dick spent his senior year at Oxford College in England.  It was a tremendous experience for him and in addition to the schooling he was able to travel in Europe.

Dick had decided on a teaching career and after graduation he worked at the Schaumburg School District for a year.  After that, he transferred to Rockford, met Michelle Smith, and they were married about 1968 I would guess.  So much for Number Two son.

Dave was an excellent student and graduated from high school in 1968 and was the Class Valedictorian.  Elm and I knew that he had to go to college and we thought he should go to a small school in Illinois – not too far away.  However, David had other ideas and he was accepted at Harvard University.  He had qualified for a National Merit Scholarship but by now Elm and I felt that we could help him financially.  I opened up a checking account at another bank and for four years, I deposited every paycheck and we had ample funds to see him through school because by this time I was working fulltime at the library.

In the mid-Sixties, I think about 1964, Elm changed jobs again.  This time he decided to work for Perkins and Will, an architectural firm in the Chicago Loop.  He had to commute by train but he felt that the position was much better as well as the pay.  He was still a Specifications Writer.  He made a lot of good friends there and he stayed until he retired somewhere about 1981.

Back in 1964 when I started at the library, there were four employees:  a librarian, two high school kids, and myself.  The building itself was a four-room house at the corner of Schaumburg and Roselle Roads.  The “living room” had fiction and the checkout desk. One “bedroom” had children’s books.  Another “bedroom” housed non-fiction.  Magazines and newspapers were in the “bathroom” perched on shelves above the bathtub.  The “kitchen” was the workroom.  Talk about humble beginnings.  We were only open a few hours per week.  I did all the typing as well as overdues, checking books in and out… anything and everything.

I mentioned earlier that the decade of the 60s was something else.  The Vietnam War was on everybody’s mind and Elm and I felt very strongly that we had to business there, and I think all our children felt the same way.  And in November 1969 we joined the big protest in Washington DC.  Phil and Mary, Mick and Dick, along with Fran and Jessie (friends of Mary) and Elm and I drove all night, and we arrived at Paul and Phyllis’ house in Towson, Maryland in the wee hours, and took the bus to Washington.  Dave also came down from Harvard with a friend for the event, staying at Paul’s house as well.  This was our first and last participation in a demonstration of any kind.

I think the year was 1970 when Phil and Mary moved to Mountain View, California, with the hopes of a new lucrative job.  Unfortunately, things didn’t pan out and it was a difficult time for them.  When they left we “dog-sat” for Ben, a huge St. Bernard who wanted to be a lap dog, and Tommy, a parakeet.  After a few months we shipped Ben, via air freight, to California, but Tommy stayed with us until he died of gout some time later.  Phil and Mary returned to their home in McHenry, Illinois, and on December 16, 1971, Bradley was born.  Mary and Phil had wanted a baby for some time, so we were all so happy for them.

Finally, David’s big day arrived.  He graduated from Harvard University in June, 1972, with honors.  We were a couple of happy parents that day, and we drove out to Boston for the festivities.

However, Dick and Mick were expecting their first child and they were now living in Holland, Michigan, so on our way back from the graduation, we stopped in Holland only to find that there was no action yet.  We continued on home with David, but in less than a week Jake was born, and we drove back to Holland.

At this point I was firmly convinced that all the female genes in the Olsons had disappeared.  Elm and I had three sons, and now we had two grandsons.

Before I leave the 60s I have to mention that somehow we managed to take some great trips.  One in particular was a trip to California – Elsie, David, Elm and I had a marvelous trip through the West, visiting places like the Grand Canyon and Yosemite.  My mind is a little vague but I remember staying at a motel in Fish Camp, California, and Phil joined us in San Francisco.  He must have been in the Navy.

Also, about 1970, I had my first flight.  Elm and I flew out to San Francisco and we spent Thanksgiving with Phil and Mary.  Shortly after that, they returned to Illinois.

The library grew by leaps and bounds.  I had been working there for a couple of years when the Library Board made it possible to erect a new library building at 32 Library Lane.  It looked immense at the time in comparison.  In 1967 Colleen Amundsen left, and I was in charge temporarily for about six months until Michael Madden was hired as Head Librarian.  My workload increased and as more staff was hired, I was a combination secretary, bookkeeper, and payroll clerk, and was available anywhere I was needed. 

A short time later, we were bulging at the seams and an addition was put on the existing library.  This lasted a few years and it would be difficult to find the original library, but it is somewhere under the second addition that was completed in the late 70s.  From the humble beginnings the library prospered.  When I started in 1964, there were four employees.  When I retired in 1984, the staff numbered over a hundred and I wouldn’t even venture a guess what it is today.

When Brad was about a year old, Phil and Mary moved to Beaver Dam,  Wisconsin and a short time later, Dick and Mick also moved to Beaver Dam.  Phil and Dick worked for the same company, with a new process called powdered metallurgy.  In November of that year, Andy was born.   Another boy!

A year later, Dick and Mick were back in Hoffman Estates and living at 402 Apricot Street.  Johanna was born in November.  Three children, one year apart, all born in different states – Jake in Michigan, Andy in Wisconsin, and Johanna in Illinois.  That’s a lot of moving.  But at long last, the Olson family had a girl!

About 1975, Elm and I decided to let Dick and Mick rent our house and we moved to Town Square Apartments in Schaumburg.  I loved it because I could walk to the library, which I did most of the time.

About the same time, Quisty and Willard, and Elm and I took Amtrak out to Flagstaff, Arizona, where Bill and Fran met us.  It was great.  It was overnight so we had sleeping arrangements.  We spent some time in Phoenix at the Zarubas’ house, and also took a short trip to Nogales, Mexico.  It was most enjoyable and the six of us have remained good friends for many decades.  Something like this doesn’t occur too often.

All this time, David had been working for a large advertising company, Leo Burnett, and doing very well.  He had his own car, his own apartment in Chicago, and he had met Mary Lawson, and they would be married in 1978.

Elm and I had the shock of our lives when our three boys surprised us with some cash to take a trip to Sweden.  It was something we had thought of but felt we could not afford.  We went to a travel agent and she mapped out a beautiful itinerary for us – England, Norway, and Sweden.  I can’t give all the details but we went by plane (to England), by boat (across the North Sea to Norway), and by train (from Bergen to Stockholm).  We met Emil and Olga in Stockholm and travelled north to Lapland and areas north of the Arctic Circle.  All this in about three weeks, and it was in the early summer of 1977.

It was a good thing we travelled when we did because in 1978 I spent about eight weeks in the hospital.  The diagnosis was acute diverticulitis.   After surgery I had to endure the use of a colostomy procedure until it could be reversed in six months.  Although I went back to work, I was happy when this episode was over.

In 1979, Elm was definitely diagnosed as a diabetic and was in Sherman Hospital.  Routinely they did a stress test and he failed.  This led to more tests and ultimately that open-heart surgery was recommended.  After a second opinion was obtained, Elm had bypass surgery at St. Luke’s Hospital in Milwaukee.

Phil and Mary now lived in Milwaukee and Mick and Dick moved to Hancock, Michigan, so in the mid-1970s we sold the house at 402 Apricot and bought a lovely condo in Schaumburg.  Also, at this time, Tim was adopted by Phil and Mary.  Our grandchildren count now was 4 boys, 1 girl.

In the spring of 1982, Elm and I flew to Cancun, Mexico.  We stayed at the Casa Maya and visited Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza.  Elm pulled one of his “goofs” and packed an empty bottle of Orinase (oral medication for diabetics), so we had some uncomfortable hours until we found a Mexican doctor who gave us an equivalent.  Elm deserved 30 lashes for that.  When we got back after a week, Jean was in the hospital and had been diagnosed as having cancer.

CASA MAYA HOTEL, CANCUN MEXICO

Elm’s mother died on January 7, 1981, and Jean and the other sisters had taken such good care of her but at the age of 94, it was time.

About this time we had another grandson, Erik, who was born to David and Mary.  They were living in a high-rise apartment overlooking Lake Michigan in Chicago.

Phil and Mary made another move, this time to Hightstown, New Jersey.  We had a good camaraderie with Dick and Mick’s children, and in 1983 we took the three of them on Amtrak to visit Phil and Mary.  We had sleeping accommodations and it was the first long train ride for them.  We had such a good time, eating, playing “99”, and sleeping.  Phil met us at Trenton.  Also, at that time, we went sightseeing in Philadelphia – Independence Hall and all the rest.

David and Mary had moved to Hampstead, England (a suburb of London) when Erik was about three years old.  David still worked for Leo Burnett Company, but he was assigned to the London office.

PART 3 – Our Retirement, Travel Adventures, and the “Later Years”

 

Elm had retired from Perkins and Will.  He had had a great “going away session” – parties, gifts, the works.  I think it was 1981.  I continued working at the library where I now had the title “Business Manager”.  Elm spoiled me rotten those days.  He took over all the household duties like shopping and cooking, and it was so great to have dinner ready when I came home.

In June of 1984 I retired from the library.  I was almost 65 years old and I had completed 20 years of service, and had witnessed the phenomenal growth in library usage.  I had a tremendous urge to travel and having David in England was a big incentive.  After the festivities, a beautiful luncheon and gifts, it was done.

Elm and I began to firm up some definite travel plans.  We secured Eurail Passes, got our passports in order, and in August we went on a two-month long tour of Europe.  We did not have a regular itinerary as we had had in 1977 but we were very flexible and we did have some definite places to go.  Our first stop was England, and what a thrill it was to have David meet us at Heathrow Airport.  We did a lot of sightseeing and then we had the pleasure of Willard and Quisty joining us for a few days.  Willard was not averse to driving in England, so we rented a car and drove to places like Bath and Oxford.

I will now skim over the rest of our trip and just mention a few of the highlights:  Umeå and Stockholm, Sweden; Bruges, Belgium; Paris, France; Lausanne and Geneva, Switzerland; Barcelona and Madrid, Spain.  We met Paul (Elm’s brother) in Madrid.  If I have the energy I’ll elaborate on this European tour later.  All of our travel was by train.  We returned to London in October, and then took a bus tour to Scotland.  We returned to the United States on Halloween night, and were told that Jean was very ill.

A day later we went to Rockford and helped Helen and Elsie with the terminal care of Jean.  We were there until she died in December, 1984.

We now had been severely bitten with the “travel bug” and once again we gathered up Jake, Andy, and Johanna and flew to Jamaica for a week.  This was the first flight for the children out of the country.  We stayed at the Shaw Park Beach Hotel at Montego Bay, swam, did some sightseeing and had a beautiful holiday.

SHAW PARK BEACH HOTEL, JAMAICA

We had been home less than a week when Elm had a heart attack.  After a few days in Intensive Care, he was moved from Alexian Hospital to Loyola Hospital in Maywood.  Here he had his second bypass heart surgery.   Dick had come to pick up the children, so fortunately he could stay and be with me.  That was a godsend.

Dick now had accepted a teaching job in Montague, Michigan.  He had made a full circle and now was doing what he started to do right after college.

In May of 1985, Kim was born in London and shortly after, David and Mary returned to the United States and bought a house in Winnetka, Illinois.  It was only an hour’s drive to their house, so we saw quite a bit of Erik and Kim.

In November, 1985, Phil and Mary returned to the Midwest and settled in Canton, Michigan (a suburb of Detroit). 

For some time I had been having difficulty walking and after some tests, the doctors concluded that I had a blockage in the arteries of one leg and I had surgery similar to a bypass, but in my abdomen.  The surgery was successful but Elm and I were now candidates for Cardiac Rehab.  We walked, biked, rowed many hours at Alexian Hospital.  We met a lot of friends there and had a good time as well as getting healthy.

Feeling tiptop, we flew to Hawaii in 1986 and saw Pearl Harbor and had our first boat ride on a catamaran.  We were only on the Island of Oahu and maybe some day we can go back and see some of the others.

In July 1986, Elm and I rented a mobile home at Silver Lake, Michigan – about a half-hour drive from Dick’s house – and we spent a lot of time with Jake, Andy, and Johanna.  On July 26, we celebrated our 45th Wedding Anniversary in Muskegon.  Our whole family was there at a dinner party.

In 1987, we flew to Seattle, Washington, and took a bus to Vancouver where we boarded a cruise ship that took us to places like Sitka, Juneau, and as far north as Glacier Bay.  The scenery was magnificent.  We saw whale spouts – not just one, but many.  Elm took a ride in a float plane over a glacier and spotted a bear lumbering across the ice.  All this in addition to being spoiled rotten on cruise functions and food.

Life in Schaumburg was not very exciting.  We walked at Woodfield Mall early in the morning and we did go to Rehab three days a week.  We decided to try Florida and heard of a condo in Boca Raton that we could rent for a couple of weeks.  This was very nice, but the area was a little rich for our blood.

The next two years we rented a condo in North Redington Beach, Florida, for a couple of winter months.  This condo belonged to Jay Rotello, whose daughter, Joy, was a friend of Mickey’s.  It was an efficiency apartment and was very nice and comfortable.  Elm and I walked the beach and got tan, and one day our walk took us past a large apartment building, Gull Harbor.  We stopped at the office, looked at a couple of apartments, and then we made up our minds to go back to Schaumburg, sell our condo, and move down to Florida permanently.  We had had enough of snow, cold, and ice.

GULL HARBOR APARTMENTS, N. REDINGTON BEACH FL

About that time, Dick and Mick had an unexpected increase in their family.  Two young nephews had been orphaned (they belonged to Mick’s sister, Tammy) and they consented to raise them.  Patrick and John made our tally now 7 boys and 2 girls.

We went back to Schaumburg and sold our condo in one day, packed up our stuff and had everything shipped to Florida, and we moved into our apartment on May 1, 1989.

A couple of months alter we had our first visitors.  Gunnel and her daughter Cissi flew from Sweden to spend some time with us.  They loved swimming in the Gulf.  We had met Gunnel, a relative on Elm’s side, when we were in Sweden in 1977 and had corresponded ever since.  We managed to get a day trip to Epcot and then we flew with them up to Rockford for a real family reunion.  While in Rockford, I experienced some discomfort and as soon as I got back to Florida, I asked to have a hysterectomy – this was in August.  By the time our next visitors came around Christmas time, all as back to normal.

We had not attempted any long trips for quite a while, and looking at brochures etc., we came across one that appealed to us – Brazil and a trip down the Amazon.  It was different so we contacted a travel agent and made the arrangements.  On April 21, 1991, we embarked on the greatest and most unusual trip we have ever had, and ever hope to have.

We had to have shots for Yellow Fever, Malaria, and Cholera, and that should have alerted us a little of what to expect.  We had expected to be on a tour but as it turned out, we were the only ones.  This may have been an advantage because instead of a tour boat down the Amazon, we had a Jungle Guide, Daniel, and personalized service.  We visited a remote Indian village and the scenes we saw could have been in National Geographic.  After the Amazon adventure, we flew to various cities in Brazil and our last stop was Rio de Janeiro.  We stayed at a lovely hotel on the Copacabana, visited Sugar Loaf Mountain, and returned to Miami three weeks later.

We had been home only a couple of weeks when I was back in the hospital – emergency gall bladder removal.  I must have a guardian angel because if that had happened in South America, I probably wouldn’t be writing this now.

I recovered rapidly and in July of 1991 we were in Illinois to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary.  It was a gala affair at Nordic Hills Country Club near Chicago.  David gets the blue ribbon for planning this affair but everyone did their share.  Not only were all the family members there but so many old friends including most of the people who had been in our wedding party.  It was such a memorable occasion.

I am writing this in November, 1993 and Elm and I are in fairly good health.  We are very happy that we made the decision to move to Florida.  We now live a very quiet, serene existence.  For the first time in our lives, we are completely free of money worries.  We are by no means wealthy but we manage on our Social Security plus a couple of annuities (for extra expenditures).  We have a fairly new car, ample wardrobes, and more than enough to eat.

Once in a while we get little pangs of loneliness and wish we weren’t quite so far from everyone.  We look forward to visitors and so far our sons and grandchildren seem to find their way down here.  In addition, we spend a couple of months up north in Illinois and Michigan.  We also keep close contact with everyone by telephone.

Our wants are few – we go to restaurants quite a lot and my cooking is at a minimum.  No longer do I bake anything – even Christmas cookies.  When I think about it, I have a hard time knowing where the time goes.  I try to walk a couple of miles a day but Elm is no longer able to walk with me.  When the weather is nice I like to swim in the pool.  Occasionally we bring chairs and sit on the beach – sunsets down here can be spectacular.

We have joined a church and really do enjoy the Pastor, Gary Clark.  He is an excellent speaker and for the first time in my life I am enjoying sermons.  In addition, the music is exceptionally well done.  Elm and I have not entered into activities at the Church but maybe this is something for the future.  For the present, we are satisfied with the church service on Sunday.  Neither Elm nor I like to drive at night any more, and the church is about a half-hour drive and most of the activities are in the evening.

PART 4 – A Few Final Musings

As I am coming to the end of this narrative, I would like to express some personal thoughts.  First and foremost, I want to apologize if I have some dates mixed up – you can fault my computer for that.  Secondly, I want to thank Elm – he edited my writing, crossed my “t’s” and dotted my “i’s” – I write fast and sloppily.  Who wants perfection?

On the whole, my life has been a good and rewarding one.  If I had it to do over, there are a few things I would change.  First, I would have finished college.  Secondly, I would have made Elm go back for more education after his army career.  Thirdly, I would have had a daughter – every mother should have had one.  Boys are nice, but it has been my observation that girls are closer to their parents.  Also I would opt for a lot of naturally curly hair and to be a petite size 10.

Last summer we spent time with all three of our sons and our grandchildren, and we are so happy that all are such “beautiful” people.  We have been so fortunate so far – no divorces, no crimes, no bigotry or racism.  If my parents and Elm’s parents could see all of you, they would be equally happy.  We must have done something right.

We have been fortunate in having so many long-lasting friendships, some spanning 50 to 60 years. 

I count my blessings when I realize how few problems we have had with our daughters-in-law, and what a warm relationship we have maintained with Elm’s family.

We have a great assortment of grandchildren – already some of them are showing certain tendencies as to what they will become as adults.  Certainly there is no doubt that Jake will some day be an airline pilot, Johanna an entrepreneur amassing her money, Kim entertaining in some way, either writing or acting, and I hope I live long enough to see some of this.

 

Oops!  I reread a section and found an error.  It’s not earthshaking, but should be corrected.  John Haussner was adopted in March of 1942 – he was born the year before Phil and Jim.