Arlyn & I, maybe Brenda, will go to (maternal) Aunt Cleo's (Fuller) funeral in Baudette Monday. It seems so unreal. I am so sorry for her children. Sometimes, you just think people will be around forever. I recall having a hard time after grandpa died. His sweater hung on the hook and his chair stayed in his favorite spot for years...I imagined he was just in the next room.
Paternal grandfather - Grandpa Martin Norstebon: immigated from Norway in 1910 - My Memory Snippet:
I was in my 20's when grandpa passed away (he lived in Perham, MN). He & grandma were my intial/key ties to the Perham area (I also had aunts & uncle's in the area). I always remembered him as a short, chubby, balding man who enjoyed playing accordian & cards. One day grandma pointed out a picture of him in his WWI uniform...he looked like Tony Curtis (kind of)! "That's grandpa!?" I exclaimed, I had never known who that was in the faded, sepia photograph.
Grandpa Martin & grandma Emma Norstebon lived in Roseau until 1951, I believe. (Exact history can be provided by cousin Gary Kirckoff). They moved to the Richville, MN area and lived on a farm east of Dent. My earliest memory of visiting them was being packed into a '51 Ford by mom & dad and driving from Ross (Roseau area) to Richville. That seemed like such a loooong drive. I played in the barn with my brother Richard and uncles Allen (deceased now) and Milton. They probably just kindly tolerated me. I was 5 or younger.
They eventually sold the farm and moved to Perham
Grandpa was in WWI. One day I was sitting in Perham at his house and he started telling me about his experience in France.
"I vas gassed in France. It vas a hot day, and ve vere told to alvays keep our gas masks on...but da guy who vas vit me and I...ve vas vorking on a bridge. It vas so hot, so ve laid our gas masks on one end of da bridge...and ve vere verking on the other...den he yelled, "gas, get your mask on"! Ve ran and put our masks on...den I vas in da hospital. I never knew vat happened to him. I can still taste da gas in my mout sometimes."
At this point, grandma scoffed him (something I never heard her do). "Dat is yust yer imagination!"
He flatly retorted, "I do", but then he stopped talking about his experience. I am sorry I never followed up. I understood and believed him because I had been in a situation where I tasted blood in my mouth for years after an accident (I understood it was totally psychological).
More to come...not sure when.
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