Susan Schubert

Roger and Karen's daughter Susan passed away on the 14th of December from complications of the Multiple Sclerosis she's had for many years. Susie was born April 18, 1963.  They had a lovely graveside service on the 19th of December in Olympia, Washington, where her body was laid to rest next to her maternal grandparents.  She will be greatly missed by her parents, and her two brothers, John and David Schubert, and their extended family. 

Cathy told me, "It is so hard to accept she's gone.  She was only 2 years old when we moved out West, and she captured all of our hearts immediately. Susie was flower girl at my wedding to Pete a few years later.  She continued to be a ray of sunshine for the whole family throughout the years. We miss her so very much."

We offer our condolences to the entire Schubert family. 

God Jul!

For all my Swedish relatives! Hope the tomtes look after all you very well this Christmas Season and for the coming New Year!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=570Sj8j-ZXE

Merry Christmas from my house to yours!

I haven't posted anything for a very long time. My youngest son has been in the hospital, most of that time in an Intensive Care Unit for the past 10 weeks, and things have been rather chaotic here.

He has a weak heart and was retaining fluid, and on the 6th of October, he went to the Emergency Room at his local hospital, and they transferred him to Regions Hospital in St. Paul to the cardiac unit.

Over the next few days they discovered that he had a very fast heartbeat and they were able to slow it down with his implanted defibrillator/pacemaker. The cardiologists decided to do an angiogram and a heart ablation to interrupt the part of his heart that was creating the problem.

On the day of the procedures, they couldn't do the angiogram because his liver numbers were too high, and when they went on to the ablation, within seconds he went into cardiac arrest. After mechanical cpr for 15 minutes, they thought there wasn't anything else they could do. Then they decided to use an Impella, an external heart pump new to their hospital, in an attempt to see what would happen. It was also the first time the Impella had been to the Intensive Care Unit, so the entire staff was educated on the use of the Impella. There were people in and out of his room all the time, but the medical staff had little time to tell us what was happening (and I don't think they quite knew what to expect.)

The Impella worked for several days, but he also had kidney failure probably due to the Impella and it was also affecting his liver and he was extremely jaundiced. The cardiologist the last day he was in Regions told us they didn't know what else they could do, so he was going to call the University of Minnesota Hospital to see if they would take him. Within an hour, we were told that the cardiologists had looked at his chart, they had a bed for him, and he would be transferred later that day. No more tests were to be run at Regions, the U wanted to do their own testing.

That evening, they loaded his dialysis machine, his ventilator, his Impella, his nurse, and him into an ambulance and took him to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit at the U of M Hospital on campus. We followed, and they began telling us what they planned to do.

After testing, they were going to remove the Impella and send that back to Regions, and they were going to do open heart surgery and implant an Lvad (Left Ventricle Assist Device), an implanted heart pump and they were going to do this on Friday. He was in critical condition and we were to be "cautiously optimistic."  He made it through surgery. Unfortunately he had also been given blood thinning medication at Regions, so they weren't able to close up the incision until the following Monday. Which they did, and he tolerated all of this well.

Later this same week we were told that his Aortic Valve wasn't functioning well, so they were going to do another open heart surgery and replace this with a pig valve. We were again told that he was in critical condition and that we should be cautiously optimistic.  He survived this.

A few days later, he developed both an infection but they didn't know where, and then pneumonia. To make a very long story short -- he remained in Intensive Care Unit, with 12 doctors, a 24 hours a day nurse, and by the time we came to the week before Thanksgiving, we were told that he was now stable but we should continue to be cautiously optimistic. I think that's when we were told he was no longer critical, but still very ill. He continued making progress, getting rid of the breathing tube, going to shorter dialysis, he was no longer a deep yellow color, he was making progress.

Sometime at the beginning of December, he was moved from the ICU at the U of M to Bethesda Rehab Hospital. Things went out of control and nobody knows why, but he ended up the next day back in the ICU at the U of M, and remained there for a few days -- when they moved him up two floors to a regular ward, and he was able to walk 25 steps with a walker. He was there for about two days, and suddenly they were finding it difficult to wake him up.

So they transferred him back to the Intensive Care Unit where he still is today. On Tuesday, he was having all kinds of problems caused they thought from the Co2 in his blood. Something wasn't working correctly. He woke up with 4 doctors in the room, 3 nurses, a couple of technicians, an echocardiogram machine in his room, his mother and his wife. He looked terrified!

And they put him back on the ventilator and continuous dialysis -- that was Tuesday. Today is Saturday and he is no longer on the ventilator all the time, and they are talking about sending him back up to the 6th floor tomorrow.

He was the sickest of any of the patients they have treated in this manner, and most of their patients are in the Cardiac ICU for 3 to 5 days. He has been there for 9 weeks. They don't know what to expect or what problems they might run into. The U of M is one of two places who do Lvad surgery in Minnesota -- the other is Mayo Clinic in Rochester. He was in the right place at the right time, with doctors who decided to try to do what they could for him. They have been an incredible medical staff, working very hard to first keep him alive, and next to give him back quality of life.  Hopefully they are also learning from this as well. Once he gets through all of this, he will be put on the heart transplant list, or even a heart/kidney transplant list.

Today he is on a liquid diet -- his personal goal is to get to solid food within the next four days. Being a stubborn Swede, he is determined to have a traditional lutefisk dinner on Christmas Eve!

Riana was Swedish Lucia for him on December 13th; unfortunately, he was in dialysis when we got there, and only managed to eat half of a Saffron roll before we were told he could have NO food in the dialysis lab. We were able to leave him several saffron rolls in his room along with some Christmas cookies before we left.

Now he is hoping for lutefisk.

I cannot say enough good things about the entire University of Minnesota Cardiac Medical Team, surgeons, cardiologists, nurses, technicians, the entire team, the Lvad volunteer, the Cardiac chaplain -- all the people who have made all of this endurable for both my son, his family and his extended family!

I hope I have covered this with correct chronology, what has happened and when. If not, it's close and sometimes I wonder if I even remember who I am at times.  Trying to get ready for Christmas -- I have sent out no Christmas cards this year. I have thought of each and every one of you, wishing I was closer to all of you to give and receive big Christmas hugs. So consider yourself hugged! 

We all wish you a very Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year.  Hoping you will be blessed in a spectacular way the way we have been blessed. 

God is good!

More on Krans Family Reunion

Just received this; although it's a Krans cousin reunion, anyone related through the Ekquist side of the family will be welcomed by our Krans relatives.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Hello Everyone,

Just a reminder that we have a cousin reunion scheduled forSeptember 6 at Jeff and Kay’s farm (The Peterson Farm) in Homestead. Hopefully you have all set aside this date and will be able to join us. 

We are planning on having a late lunch between 1:30 and 2:00 p.m.  We will provide pulled pork sandwiches, drinks, plates and utensils.  We are asking that you bring a dish to pass and folding chair or two.

Nina Peterson,(Clarence Peterson’s daughter), who used to live at this farm when she was young, told Jeff that she knew many of the Krans family.  She said their families were good friends.  She knew many of the “Krans kids” and would love to come and share some history and stories .

So, not only will you be able to catch up with your cousins, we may just learn something! Also have heard from Lanny and Laurie Neely (Mary Ellen’s son) that they will be attending  from Massachusetts. Please pass this information on to any of those in your family that you think will come. 

Hope to see you there.

Jeff, Kay, and Kathy

Rhoda Osterberg Hoaglund

May 31, 2014 From The Iron Mountain Daily News Rhoda E. Hoaglund, 92, of Homestead, passed away on Wednesday, May 28, 2014, at ManorCare Nursing & Rehabilitation Center in Kingsford, Michigan. Rhoda was born on Jan. 17, 1922, in Norway, daughter of the late Axel and Ida (Ekquist) Osterberg. Her family moved to the Racine/Kenosha, Wisconsin, area when she was 7 years old. She graduated from Kenosha High School in 1941. Rhoda joined the United States Navy during World War II and served from 1944 to 1946 as a specialist photographer. After her naval service, she attended the University of Wisconsin-Madison for one year. She married Ralph Hoaglund on May 29, 1948, in Norfolk, Nebraska. This year marked their 66th wedding anniversary. Rhoda worked alongside her husband for more than 25 years at the Florence County Co-Op in Aurora. She served as coordinator for Northeast Wisconsin Technical College Adult Education program for many years. Rhoda and Ralph also operated Peaceful Acres Maple Syrup in Homestead. In 1991 they won the top national award for North American light amber maple syrup. Rhoda was a long-time volunteer and supporter of the Caring House in Iron Mountain. She served on the board of directors for the Florence County Aging Unit, was a member of the Wisconsin Maple Syrup Producers and was instrumental in starting the kindergarten program in Aurora, Wisconsin. Rhoda enjoyed gardening, cooking, baking, and was an excellent seamstress. Her greatest joy came from spending time outside working in her garden and yard. She is survived by her husband, Ralph; children, Rhonda (David) LaBine of DePere, Wis., Wesley Hoaglund and Susan Reinheimer, both of Orlando, Fla; sister, Eileen Molinaro of Philadelphia; grandchildren, Andrea LaBine of Howard, Wis., Brian LaBine of DePere, Wis., Axel Reinheimer and Emily Reinheimer, both of Orlando; great-grandchildren, Olivia, Alexis, Shonn, Seth and Indica; great-great-granddaughter, Chloe. In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by nine brothers and sisters; son-in-law, Barry Reinheimer; and her granddaughter, Heather (LaBine) Bahr. In accordance with Rhoda's wishes, private family services will be held at a later date. Burial will be in the Homestead-Aurora Cemetery. Condolences may be expressed to the family of Rhoda Hoaglund online at www.ernashfuneralhomes.com.

A Cousin's Reunion

I received the following message from Kathy, the daughter of Vernon Krans:

"We are going to have another cousin reunion.  I wanted to send you the basic information early so you can mark it down your jam-packed calendars.  So no excuses --- you have had plenty of notice!

 

It will be on Saturday, September 6, 2014.  Jeff and Kay will be hosting at  his farm in Homestead. In case you didn’t know, they purchased the old Erland Peterson homestead.  The Popple Creek ( or Crik, as we called it) runs through his property and the Claus Johnson homestead is across the road. (Claus Dr.), and is not too far from the Krans homestead. Brain Banks, who presently owns the old Krans place, has also invited us to the farm.  So it should be interesting to learn a few facts about our family beginnings.  Remember, we are now THE oldest generation so it is up to us to preserve our history to pass on to our children.  If you think your family would be interested in attending, please inform them about the date.

 

More details this summer."

What a wonderful chance to visit where our Swedish ancestors began their life homesteading in "Amerika." In April of 1883, the entire Ekquist family moved from Florence to this farm site in Little Popple, later called Burnsville, and finally Homestead, Wisconsin. This homestead was later considered to be the “stoniest and stumpiest land”in the area. Only 30 acres were workable. They joined the John Larson’s,and the Lars Peterson’s as the first pioneers in “Little Popple.”

It later became the Claus Johnson homestead; Julia Ekquist Johnson and Claus Johnson bought the Andrew Ekquist homestead after Andrew died.  Andrew and Louisa sold Charlie Krans 40 acres of land for $300 in 1895 where they built a house and raised a family. For many years after Andrew died, our Great-Grandmother Louisa lived with  Teckla and Oscar Lundwall, but returned to live with Ellen and Charlie where she died.

Here's more information about the Ekquist family:

http://nancyadele.blogspot.com/2012/06/ekquist-family-in-homestead-little.htm

It's also a wonderful opportunity to either meet or reconnect with other extended family members.

Sharon Dishaw's Obituary

Obituary for Sharon Ann Dishaw

Sharon A. Dishaw, age 49, of Brownstown, passed away on Thursday, May 22, 2014.
Born on August 17, 1964 in Trenton, Michigan, she was the daughter of Earl and Alice (Lundwall) Dishaw. 

Sharon was a 1982 graduate of Flat Rock High School. She worked in a group home with handicapped people as a Nursing Assistant. 

She was preceded in death by her parents, daughter, Amanda and sister, Marlene.

Surviving is her son, David (Shana) Spencer of Dearborn Heights; daughter, Laura Spencer of Gibraltar; 3 grandchildren, Peyton, Adreyona and Camden; 4 brothers, Larry (Linda) Dishaw of Flat Rock, Thomas Dishaw of Flat Rock, Michael (Deb) Dishaw of Maybee and Earl John (Sharon) Dishaw of New Boston and sister, Doris (Jim) Liedel of New Boston.

A memorial service will be held at a later date. 

Memorials may be made to Family. 

Love from Strangers

The following is a posting from our 2nd cousin, Ron Osterberg. Thank you, Ron.

        Walking into his plush Beverly Hills office, Ramona and I suspected grim news.  The doctor was not smiling.  “I’m sorry Mrs. Osterberg,” he said in a low expressionless voice, “I’m sorry, but we cannot remove your cancer.  There’s nothing we can do.”

        It happened again.  This time though it was in slow motion.  When doctors told me that my first wife had died, there was a sharp line separating the before and the after.  One moment she was alive.  The next she was dead.  There wasn’t an in between time.  This was different.  The beginning was now.  When would it end?

        Ramona shrunk herself into a tight little ball and almost disappeared in a corner of the plush leather chair.  She pulled her knees tight up to her forehead in an extreme fetal position.  She looked so little and so helpless.  Her face was hidden inside that little ball, but I heard her deep sobs.  Once heard, sobs like that are never forgotten.  They start deep within the soul and pulsate out to the world.

        With her arms tucked inside the ball, I couldn’t hold her hand while I talked with the doctor.  I could only rest mine on her back.  I don’t recall what we said.  I think I asked the usual questions.  Was he certain?  Did he consult with others?  How reliable are the tests?  Soon the words ran out and we stared silently at each other.  Eventually he excused himself and left the room.

        So slowly did Ramona uncoil herself and resume a sitting position before standing unsteadily.  She grabbed me around the middle and with her face buried in my chest said, “Ronnie, I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry to put you through this.”  I told her that everything would be all right and she said, “No, things will not be all right.  I’m going to die.  There’s nothing all right about that.”

        I recall little else until we were in the elevator where Ramona said that she couldn’t face the children feeling the way she did.  “It wouldn’t be fair to them,” she said, “we’ve got to decide how to handle this.”  It was about two in the afternoon and the restaurant in the lower floor was almost empty.  It was a perfect place to cry.

        Once seated, we talked of many things, she and I.  We talked about how she finally had children after her first husband brutally threw her downstairs causing a miscarriage.  We talked about how I met a great mother for the children when I thought that couldn’t happen.  We talked this way and that way about things and how we would handle them.

        Gradually our moods lightened as we made vague plans.  If one doctor gave us bad news, we wouldn’t tell anyone until we talked with two more.  As we talked while sipping coffee and wine, waitresses sat at our booth and chatted about nothing in particular.  They were like old friends stopping by for cheerful banter.  One got Ramona to tell her a funny story and called the others over to hear it.  They were reconnecting us with the world.

        The restaurant manager sat with us and asked for our car keys.  He said the lot might be closing and he would make certain we weren’t stuck.  Ramona looked at me and we had the same thought, “There are so many really good people in this place.”

        Our talk was now more hope than gloom.  We talked about how lucky we were to have met and how grateful we were for the time we had together.  We resolved to focus on the good of what was left, not the shortness of it.  We felt strangely calm as if someone had sprayed tranquilizer into the air.

        When we asked for the check, the manager appeared at the table flanked by two waitresses.  Taking turns, they told us not to worry about the check and the parking.  “Please, let us do this for you,” he said.  A waitress added, “We overheard you talking and everyone in the restaurant wants to help in their own way.”  The other waitress added, “Please, let us help.”  One of the waitresses hugged Ramona and told her that she could not make the cancer go away, but she could help make her life a little easier.

        Driving home, Ramona and I agreed that our experience seemed divinely inspired.  We went into their place not knowing how we could get through the next ten minutes and left with hope.  Strangers gave us their love and it worked wonders.

        The next day we learned of another type of surgery.  Ramona had it and she survived another thirty years.  Today, decades later, I often think of those strangers who restored our souls.  I owe the world much for what they did.

Sharon Dishaw

Sharon Dishaw died early this morning. As soon as I know more, will post it here.

Remember to hug your loved ones and tell them how much you love them.

Life is precious.

Happy Birthday Dad!

The following post was written by Ron Osterberg. His grandmother, and Brun's mother was Ida Ekquist Osterberg. Ida was Grandma Teckla's sister, and I knew her as "Aunt Ida" and she lived in Aurora, Wisconsin when I was a child, and we visited her often.

Brun Osterberg

Back row: Brun and Marge
Middle from left to right: Ron, Bruce and Sally
Front: Kenneth with neighbor dog
about 1944

Brun H. Osterberg
May 18, 1907 – October 4, 1958

        Brun took life seriously.  Yet, childhood friends in northern Wisconsin remembered him as playful and funny.  He was a hard working loyal family man.  Yet, friends remembered that he often drank too much and deprived his family.

        He was a man of many contradictions and his character had many facets.  That’s why pinning down his essence is difficult.  However, those who knew him agree that “cynical” is an apt one word description.

        Our father judged the world harshly, especially politicians and the wealthy.  Like his father, he admired Eugene Debs, the long time socialist leader.  At the core of his political belief was fairness and the notion that socialists were best able to create a fair system.  Though he voted for FDR, he preferred the socialists.

        Brun left home when he was 14 years old and worked as a lumberjack in Hurley, Wisconsin before bumming around the country and the world.  He talked about riding under and between railroad cars.

        He eventually became a merchant marine and identified himself that way for rest of his life.  He crossed the equator four times, went through the Panama Canal and spent time in European and Asian seaports.  He was a good sailor, but he often missed his ship when it sailed.  That meant that he worked mainly on ships others avoided.

        While a merchant marine, he took taxidermy as a hobby and grabbed an albatross to stuff.  Bad move for two reasons.  First, the bird pecked his finger leaving a bad gash.  The ship’s medic soaked it in iodine that was too strong and it dissolved the tip of his finger.  The missing eighth of an inch with the fingernail bending over the end fascinated his children.

        Second, seamen thought that harming an albatross was bad luck.  Shortly after the albatross encounter, the ship caught a hurricane.  Thinking that they were sinking, the captain called the crew together for a group prayer.  When the crew was assembled, a shipmate wondered aloud if the storm, which he said Osterberg caused, would go away if they threw him overboard.

        While hitchhiking to a ship’s job at a mid Atlantic seaport, a car struck and dragged him several hundred feet.  People thought him dead and wired his parents for burying money.  He survived the accident and used the money for bus fare home which was then in Kenosha, Wisconsin.  In the family house were his parents, two older brothers, Rudd and Ben, one younger brother, Wes, and three younger sisters, Evelyn, Eileen and Rhoda.

        Brun married Marge Hansen in 1932 and they had four children, Sally, Ron, Bruce and Kenneth.  They divorced in 1946 and he went to San Diego.  There he married Marge Woodhouse in 1951 and had four daughters, Patricia, Lynn, Wendy, and Jill.  He had a heart attack in 1956 and a car smashed him in 1957.  Later that year, doctors told him that he had colon cancer which killed him within a year.

        He was good at many things and relaxing was not among them.  In Wisconsin he worked in the garden after coming home from his job at Nash Motors.  He ate dinner and chatted briefly with Marge before descending to his workshop in the basement.  When the weather didn’t allow gardening, he went straight to the workshop after coming home.  When he did relax, he listened to the radio.  He and Marge were friends with four couples with whom they exchanged visits.

        Our father was five feet ten and weighed 170 pounds.  His hips were so small that for many years Marge Hansen bought his shorts in the boy’s department.

        Brun was a true do it yourselfer.  He fixed everything, including cars, and he never called a repairman.  As a skilled tool and dye maker, he made openers that cut through steel cans like a hot knife through butter.

        While talking with him a few weeks before he died, our father became introspective and said softly, “If I had it to do all over again, I’d.....”  He paused, searching for the right way to phrase his last thoughts.  After several seconds, he blurted out in his old pre-illness voice, “Ah shit; I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.”

Happy Birthday Dad!

Easter Greetings 2014

Hope all of you had a very Happy Easter, with family, friends and loved ones.

Easter Sunday afternoon was a very mild 76 degrees here, and we had a wonderful potluck dinner out on the patio.

Granddaughters Justine from Southern California and Joanna from Nashville, were both home for Easter this year, much to the delight of my daughter Christine, their mother!

Justine Adele, Grandma Nancy Adele, and Joanna 

George Rowell from Kingsford was also with us this year.

Everything was wonderful, the family together is always the best, and the little ones make everybody smile. Norene brought our favorite dessert -- Strawberry Roll, and Rylie enjoyed helping to make sure everyone received their piece!

Relaxing after eating Easter Dinner on the patio

Here comes Rylie with Norene's Strawberry Roll

Rylie passing out pieces of Strawberry Roll

Alanna

George and Nancy

Happy Springtime -- Summer is coming! 

Memories Through Music

written by Ron Osterberg

        My wife Georgie sang wildly well.  Everyone said that.  Unusual for an Irish girl with Boston roots, she sang the sad ballads of Ireland without crying.  She liked those songs and she liked Irish foot dancing, but her favorites were Broadway musicals.  She knew most and sang them beautifully.

        The song she sang best was “Baubles, Bangles and Beads” from Kismet.  Many singers recorded that song, but none sang it as sweetly as did Georgie.  The song also helped spark a near riot.

        Georgie sang it in a singing competition hosted by a famous local nightclub.  The event was well promoted and many singers competed.  Entrants had their own cheering sections and Georgie’s included her sister Dot, a tough sexy broad.  Private booster groups didn’t help though.  The owner’s niece won.

        When they announced the winner, Dot, with support from a few burly new friends, went ballistic and shouted her sense of injustice.  Other entrants and their fans chimed in yelling that they rigged the contest.  Bouncers scurried around trying to calm the crowd, but they did little good.  Georgie and I left.  Dot said later that we missed much fun.

        The song that drew Georgie and I close was “Fantasy on Greensleeves.”  Before we married, I was a student at UCLA and she lived on the other side of town.  A local radio station played Greensleeves each evening and most evenings I called when it came on so we could listen together.  As we fell in love, it became “our song” and, together or apart, it always brought us back to those days and to each other.  It still does.

        Another song that Georgie loved was the hauntingly beautiful “Malagueña Salerosa” sung by Bud and Travis.  Maybe it was her favorite.  She never tired of telling listeners of the times we saw them live at the Troubadour and the Ashgrove in Los Angeles.

        Shortly before she left us, the song “Georgy Girl” came out and, naturally, she liked the ring of a song with her name in it.  About the song, she said, “That’s me.  People don’t know the real me.  If they did, they’d like me better.”

Happy Anniversary Georgie
April 30, 1961

Hey there, Georgy girl
There's another Georgy deep inside
Bring out all the love you hide and, oh, what a change there'd be
The world would see a new Georgy girl.

Happy Birthday, Ramona

Ramona’s Best Ever Birthday
April 25

        The trial deciding who got custody of Ramona was not going well for her father.  In despair, he jumped out the courtroom window.  Men stopped him, but it didn’t matter since he was only on the second floor and soft bushes ringed the building.

Ramona

        Theatrics like that convinced the judge that this was no run of the mill custody trial.  For her well-being, he temporarily sent Ramona to a children’s home.  Her fourth birthday was a few days later and she had no party.

        Each year Ramona wished for a normal party where kids brought presents, she blew out candles and everyone sang “Happy Birthday.”  One year she got the singing part.  Her mother took her to a local bar where patrons sang Happy Birthday to her all evening.  That wasn’t what Ramona had in mind.

        Ramona spent several years at a Catholic boarding school. Each year on her birthday, nuns brought out a small after dinner cake with ice cream.  The events lasted maybe ten minutes and they were not what she had dreamed of.  Never having an iconic birthday party left a void in her life.

        The void was still there years later when the Hammer family took her to a restaurant for her birthday.  Lori and I were at one end of the restaurant table separated from Ramona, Matt, Sam, Mike and Steve at the other.  Matt showed Ramona a card trick and Steve showed her another.  Giggling, Mike and Sam showed Ramona their tricks.  The four boys took turns telling jokes and they all laughed.  Ramona’s clear easy laughter floated to the rafters.

        Walking in, they were a grandmother, a son-in-law and three grandsons.  Soon they were five kids who couldn’t stop laughing at each other, at themselves and at life.  All four boys lightly competed for Ramona’s attention and she loved every microsecond of it.

        Ramona had a knack for making others laugh.  That night others made her laugh.  Laughing together creates an intimacy of the spiritual kind and that’s what Ramona and her boys had that evening.

        During her birthday party Ramona had no doctor visits, no cancer bumps, no waiting for medical test results, no chemotherapy and no radiation treatments.  Instead, she had four happy handsome boys who loved her very much and who made her laugh.

        Later through wet eyes, Ramona declared that it was her best birthday ever. The void in her life was gone.  Five months after the party she left to make the angels laugh.  Last I heard, she had them rolling in the aisles.

Happy Birthday Ramona --
from her husband, Ron Osterberg

The Day My Wife Georgie Died -- March 18, 1967

Today's post is from Ron Osterberg

Saturday around noon while returning from a routine doctor’s visit, Georgie casually mentioned that she had mild chest pains, her hands felt puffy and she gained five pounds.  Those were things to talk about, not worry about.  She was too young for a heart attack.  What could it hurt if her hands swelled a little?  And Georgie couldn’t gain weight on a bet.  A few pounds for her was a good thing.

Once home, however, her chest pains intensified, but she continued insisting that they weren’t serious.  She wanted rest, not a doctor.  That mild arguing went on for fifteen or twenty minutes when she winced in obvious pain.

I picked her up and carried her to the car, pushed her into the back seat and drove away.  All the while she was protesting that she didn’t want to go.  By then though, taking even ten seconds to argue was too long.  The drive to the hospital took fewer than five minutes.

At the ER, nurses were rushing out with a wheel chair before the car stopped.  Georgie waved without turning around as they wheeled her through large swinging doors.  That was the last time I saw Georgie alive.

No one paid special attention to me in the waiting room, which was strangely calming.  A nurse asked Georgie’s religion.  “Just for our records,” she said.  I couldn’t put my finger on anything specific, but the hospital people were not acting normal.  They were evasive and caring at the same time.

An hour after Georgie disappeared through the swinging doors, someone called me into a little room where two serious men waited.  They were blunt and to the point.

“About an hour ago your wife stopped breathing and we couldn’t revive her.”

They said other things, but little else registered.  I was in someone else’s body.  This wasn’t happening to my wife and me.  These things happened to others, not to us.

I went home, talked to the children and called people who came over.  They would have done anything to help, but they couldn’t bring Georgie back.

Norene, Christine and Me

The first photo I want to share is of the Saffron Rolls that Norene baked for us for Christmas. These are wonderful, and wish I had some now. Norene just found the photo and shared it with me today.

Norene's light-as-a-feather saffron rolls made for Swedish Christmas Eve Feast.

This along with lutfisk, Swedish meatballs, potato sausage, potatoes, mashed rutebages, cream gravy, pickled herring and, of course, lots of wonderful Christmas cookies along with Rice Pudding and Lingonberries make for a perfect Christmas Eve!

Then today, my daughter Christine went to Norene's to make her first Swedish Strawberry Torte (her son's wish for a birthday cake), and I went to watch! And, of course, to taste. This is our family's favorite dessert. Lots of work, but the results are fantastic!

Christine Eliasson and her first beautiful Swedish Strawberry Torte!

Too bad we can't share! Thanks for letting me watch and taste as well. Wonderful. Makes a beautiful melt-in-your-mouth dessert.

Update Doris Eleanore Lundwall DeVowe

Born February 17, 1915 in Commonwealth, Wisconsin

Family Members

Parents

Fritz Oscar Lundwall 1884 – 1944



Teckla Matilda Ekquist 1889 – 1967


Spouse & Children

Husband:

David W. DeVowe (1912-2011)

Children:

            Jon David DeVowe 1938

            Gerald DeVowe 1942

            Eugene DeVowe 1946

Timeline:

Birth – 17 February 1915, Commonwealth, Florence County, Wisconsin

Residence 1920 – Age: 5, Caspian, Iron County, Michigan

Residence 1930 – Age 15 Spurr, Baraga County, Michigan (Michigamme)

Residence 1935 – Trout Creek, Michigan working for the Weidman Family

Married to David W. DeVowe on September 19, 1936

Residence 1940 – Interior, Ontonagon County , Michigan (Trout Creek)

Death 24 June 1983, Age 68, Duluth, St. Louis County, Minnesota; Residence Trout Creek, Michigan

Sources:

1920 US Federal Census

1930 US Federal Census

1940 US Federal Census

Minnesota Death Index 1908-2002

From Davey:

My Mother - Doris Eleanor Lundwall and my Father - David William DeVowe were married on September 19, 1936 by William Yauch, a Presbyterian minister in Ontonagon, Michigan. (Nancy’s note: Doris and Dave attended the Presbyterian Church in Trout Creek.) Attendants were Bert Saari & Cecelia Bessen.  Dad told us that they spent the evening dancing at the Maple Grove hall, although the hall in the early days was in a different location and closer to Bruce Crossing, MI. 

Dad worked for the Weidman Lumber Company and Mother was the housekeeper/maid at the Weidman house.  

The Weidman lumberyard workers
David DeVowe, Row 1, 3nd from left - Clem Weber the first on the left is difficult to see.
Marlin Lundwall, Row 8, 3rd from left

Mother and Dad lived in the front part of a house across from Sliger's gas station and Reino (Bert's brother) & Elsie Saari lived in the back and they shared the same outhouse.  The house had no water so Dad had to haul all of it (drinking, bathing & washing) from the well at the school which was located about 1/4 mile away  Then they rented a house on Weidman Street which was closer to the lumber mill where Dad worked for about 40 years. They eventually purchased a home in 1944 about 100 yards from the house they shared with the Saari's and it became their permanent residence for the rest of their lives except for about 5 years that Dad was in nursing homes in Ontonagon and Iron River.  

This house had running water, toilet, plus an outhouse, kitchen sink with no drain, but a slop pail as they called it, kitchen wood stove and a wood heater in the dining room.  I vividly recall Gerald and myself would get up in the morning and go downstairs to stand between the wall and the wood heater to gather as much heat as we could as soon as Dad had lit the fire.  There was no vent to allow heat to the upstairs and it could get very cold.  We could almost guess the temperature outside by checking how thick the ice was on the inside of the window.  

Over the years, many hunting, fishing and trapping expeditions originated from Mom & Dad's house as well as inviting family to stay with them over the years.  Ones that come to mind are Mother's brothers, Uncle Marlin & Uncle Ray (who both worked at the lumber mill), Roger Schubert, and Ted & Ronnie Chiolak.  Some were only for the summer and others stayed for a longer period of time.

Grandma Lundwall lived with them for an unknown period of time and Eugene told the story of how Grandma Lundwall was standing by the kitchen sink and looking out of the window.  Dad came home from work and he asked Grandma "who are you looking for?" and she said, "David."  Dad asked, "What do you think of that guy?"  Grandma replied, "not much."  

When Grandma Lundwall was living with Marlin & Madilene and apparently Madilene had to go someplace, Grandma Lundwall stayed with us for the day when we lived in Merriweather and Leona was making apple pie, and Grandma was sitting at the table  watching her.  She told Leona, "You don't put nutmeg in apple pie."

There were many other family relatives that would come to spend the weekend for hunting, fishing or just visiting.  It made me very happy to see Aunts & Uncles drive up since that meant "I didn't have to do the dishes."  Dad mentioned many times that Grandpa Lundwall would come to hunt and fish and all of the game that they would get.  

Grandpa died in 1944, the same year that Mom & Dad purchased the house.  Since that time, it is hard to imagine how many fish were cleaned in the sinks of that house in Trout Creek over the years.  Sometimes it was quite full. (Nancy’s note – Not only the sink was full, the house was often full of relatives as well. The men slept upstairs, and the women and girls slept downstairs! We were part of the visiting relatives and we visited at least every six weeks or so. David DeVowe was Ward's best friend, and he was especially close to his sister Doris. It was a real treat to be there when the men and boys returned from fishing. I well remember those breakfasts of fresh trout, fried potatoes and eggs accompanied by fish (and other) stories, fun talk and lots of laughter.  Being a girl, I was never allowed to go fishing with the men, so I spent my time reading. One of the books in the bookshelf upstairs was “Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates.” Aunt Doris also had a subscription to a paper that had all kinds of good news, jokes, and comic strips including “Marmaduke the Magician.” Unfortunately, I am unable to remember the name of that paper/magazine any more and I only had access to it in Trout Creek! I wasn't unhappy reading at the house while my mother baked. In the afternoon, we all piled into the cars and went to Iron River to visit the rest of the relatives.)  

Over the years, Mother & Dad would motor to Palmer every 2 weeks in all kinds of weather to Grandma & Grandpa's house. (Nancy’s note: This must be the reason there were always photos of “Davey and Nancy Adele." Since we lived in Negaunee, we spent lots of time in Palmer on the weekends. My mother’s family was in Hibbing, Minnesota, and both of her parents died before she was 18. The Lundwall family was a very close family and my mother was always so happy that she finally had sisters! For the rest of her life, she talked about and was close to “The Girls.”)  They told me that I had stayed with Grandma & Grandpa on one occasion and to return home, they put me on a train (by myself, at  age 5) and Mother & Dad were at the train depot in Trout Creek to pick me up.  Apparently the conductor was also a baby-sitter.  I have no memories of that.  (Nancy's note -- it may very well be a photo of Uncle Dave and Davey below.)

Could very well be Uncle Dave and one of their sons at the Trout Creek Depot

I do remember staying about a week each time with Uncle Lloyd & Aunt Joyce in Stambaugh and Uncle Ward & Aunt Margaret in Hibbing, Minnesota.  On both occasions, I had my bike and the highlights of riding it was going down the Stambaugh hill and hoping that the brakes would work and pedaling up to the open pit iron ore mine in North Hibbing and trying to visualize how big the equipment was that looked so small at the bottom of the pit.

Hull Rust Mahoning Mine, Hibbing, MN (those big vehicles were huge!)

This is the size of Open Pit mining equipment. Note the man standing next to the shovel, as well as the size of the truck in the lower right.

More information on Trout Creek can be found here:

Trout Creek Centennial Online Book