In Memory of Ward

Today is Ward's birthday, and I’ve been thinking how much he loved his large extended family. And how much he enjoyed each and every family get-together.

Ward was born premature, weighing less than 3 pounds. As I’ve said before, I was always told that they kept him in a shoebox filled with cotton batting in the oven of their wood stove.

As a child, this didn't make sense to me (wood stoves were for baking things in the oven) but babies were born at home and there were no such things as incubators. Basic tenets for premature babies were to maintain warmth, provide adequate nutrition, and prevent infections. Back around the turn of the century, all premature babies were taken care of in the home and those that survived were treated with warm bricks in their cradles and rooms heated to 90 degrees or more, so the wood stove was probably how the Swedes did it.

Baby Ward survived and thrived. He did his share of boy mischief. I also remember being told that he fell or jumped from a barn, and had to walk backwards to school for several weeks afterwards. He quit school in the 10th grade and went to work, but lived at home until he married my mother when he was 27. He always told us that education was so important and how sorry he was that he quit school.

Throughout his entire life, his main concern was for his own family, his mother and his extended family.

Ward's best friend in this whole world was his brother-in-law, David DeVowe. Ward spent as much time as he could in Trout Creek with Uncle Dave. My father was not a highly social person, but he loved to be with family. He and my mother had many friends, but other than Uncle Dave, he had no “best friend.”

Even when Ward and Dave were “up in age”, they went fishing, they went hunting, they went skiing, and they loved to sit and share memories and stories of hunting and fishing.

Over the years, several relatives came to live with us “for a while.” Ray lived with us for a time (he taught me how music created vibrations and that I could feel as well as listen to music, and how to play Cribbage.) Janet and Bill lived with my folks twice, once when they were first married but Janet got too homesick to stay in St. Paul. Later Carol lived with my mom and dad for awhile. There are many funny stories around that time, and I'm hoping Carol will share them with us. Then Janet, Bill and Billy lived with them for a short time before they moved into an apartment in St. Paul Park. During a pre-employment physical, it was discovered Uncle Bill had an old disability from working in the mines, so they moved back to Stambaugh.

Lloyd and Joyce also stayed with us for a time when they were first married and before they moved into a Pullman railroad car turned into a dwelling. These dwellings were half of a Pullman car, and they were called "Pullman Cabins" on Hudson Road in St. Paul. After World War II there were many creative dwellings for our returning military men and their families, including quonset huts (over 3 million housing units were needed during 1946-1947). Lloyd also decided that he was homesick (and I'm sure Joyce was homesick too) and he wanted to be in a place where he could fish and hunt year ‘round so they returned to Stambaugh.

A day or two before my father died, he was praying with the visiting minister and he prayed for each sister and brother by name and asked God to bless each of their families.