MARY STEPHENS

I am convinced that Iowa is one of the loveliest places of all to live, and Osceola is beautiful with many advantages! Two major highways crossing here, the parks in southern Iowa, the rolling hills and trees - just now the redbud trees ate gorgeous. I have two in my yard and had no idea I could grow them this far north. I hope to live here forever, but we certainly came the long way round to get here.

My birthplace was in southeast Nebraska, York County. My parents were Nolie and Mary Alyce Wiese (pronounced weezey). Our family had strong German toots. My ancestry begins in Quarheim, Germany. In 1880, my great-grandfather tried to stop a fight between teenagers, and they killed him. That left my great-grandmother with three small children, nine, seven and my grandfather, who was four. Her sister had already come to America, to York County, Nebraska. So, as that was the custom then, she arranged for the trip to America to be with family. She was 33 when she packed for the three week trip across the ocean. She also had to pack enough food for the trip, since none would be available on the ship.

Our family was pretty typically German, as were others in that particular area in that particular time. Dad would talk German occasionally. I wish now that I had learned it but I never did. We were not poor but we made every penny count. We had what we needed but, characteristic of Germans, we made do with what we had.

I was born in 1948, the youngest of three children. My brother is Vernon, and my sister's name is Starlynn. My brother and I were close. He was much older so he looked after me. My sister and I have grown close through the years but fought a lot when we were growing up. She had her friends and I had mine. I learned early on to fend for myself which is probably why I am pretty independent today.

I got along better with my mother's side of the family than with my father's. This was Grandpa and Grandma Deremer who were from West Virginia. Grandpa Deremer wanted to move to Nebraska which was flat and where the soil was rich and fertile, whereas West Virginia was hilly and heavily populated. Grandma Deremer loved West Virginia and wanted to stay, but "whither thou goest..." so they moved.

My grandpa died in 1957. What I remember about him was that he always carried a $5 gold piece. I can still picture him sitting in a rocking chair by the window, looking out He smoked cigarettes but never in the house. It wasn't Grandma's idea. He just didn't want that smell in the house. He didn't play with me like Grandma did.

I dearly loved my grandma Deremer and would stay with her particularly during summers. There was no running water in the house and we had to pump water at the windmill. That was good water! There were always two buckets of water on the kitchen cabinet Of course, there was no bathroom. She had an old cook stove and we'd go to the cob house to get cobs. Coal was too expensive. I can still smell the cobs burning.

In the winter time, there was no heat upstairs. When we stayed with her during the cold months, she would heat bricks and wrap them in newspapers. We'd run upstairs and jump into bed. It would be so nice and toasty warm. We stayed there as long as we could in the morning because we dreaded getting out of bed putting our bare feet on the cold floor. In the summer time Grandma and I would sit in the swing on her screened-in porch and talk and talk. I could talk to Grandma about everything.

My parents were farmers, raising com and wheat, some cattle, pigs, and chickens. Relatives lived close to us and we got together a lot we had a radio in those days but no television. That has spoiled the kind of recreation we had when the extended family visited each other on lots of occasions. My aunts and uncles would play cards, usually 10-point pitch, and the kids would go outside to play kick the can or blind man's bluff. My cousins were some of my best friends.

I had chores to do, particularly working with the chickens. I had to feed them and gather eggs. I also, regularly, had to clean out the chicken house. I will never forget that smell! On Saturdays our house was cleaned from top to bottom. I remember my mother used to listen to the Grand Ole Opry while she scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor.

I always looked forward to Saturday nights when we took eggs and cream to Utica and we each got an ice cream cone - chocolate revel - at Karnopp's Drug store. When movies were shown, the side of a building was the screen. We sat and watched that or just got our ice cream and went home. One time, on the way to town, the milk spilled on the back seat of the car. That left no extra money for the ice cream, so we just turned around and went home.

Ours was a Christian home, not surprisingly Missouri Synod Lutheran. I went to a parochial school, South St. John's. It was a country school seven miles from home. The lane to our farm was 3/4-mile long and we walked it to catch the bus. I was a baby-boomer, so ours was always the largest class. There were probably 100 in the whole school. I remember, at a young age, thinking everyone was Lutheran and everyone went to parochial schools. Everyone I knew did.

There was no kindergarten at St. John's. I went to school there from first through 8th grade then to public high school. Was that a shock! I thought it was the most evil place in the whole world. In parochial school, the first class each day was catechism. In the public school, there was none of that. And the kids were different. They didn't think like we did. They didn't answer questions like we did. In parochial school, God entered into everything and our answers reflected that. In public school, that was not the case. I didn't think I'd be able to go there four years even though I heard Karen, daughter of our parochial teacher, Mr. Holtzen, saying how much more fun school is when basketball starts. I couldn't see what difference that would make but found out what she was talking about when the extra curricular activities started. That's when I met Rich. He was a senior when I was a freshman.

At the first basketball game he came over and wanted to know if he could take me home. I thought my knees were going to collapse! I asked Mom and she said o.k. if I would come right home. That was the beginning of our relationship. He was totally interested in agriculture. He helped his dad with farm work. He was of the 5th generation to live on the Stephens farm. Our children would begin the 6th. Rich just lived a mile from town so it was easier for him to get wherever he wanted to go.

Rich and I dated for four years and were married in December of 1966. My sister was in Rich's class in high school, as was her husband-to-be and my brother's wife-to-be. There were only 16 in their whole class so when they have a class reunion it is a family affair. My sister and I had talked about having a double-wedding because she was married in November, and my mother's was double-wedding ceremony. It was simpler in those days when only the parents came, but, by the time my sister and I got married, she had her friends and I had mine, so it wasn't economically practical.

I continued to work until Rich left for basic training in California. He landed at Point Magoo, which is a Marine base, was stationed at Fort Hueneme, which is a Navy Base, and was in the Army Air Force Reserves. He worked in the boiler department. He was home every night and weekends. I moved to California when he went on active duty. We lived at the Arlana apartments in Oxnard, which I later learned many other service couples did also.

I found it hard to make friends in California. Down below our apartment I could see the mail boxes out my window. I decided that I would watch when the other girls went down to get their mail and I would go down to speak to them. The first one I approached turned out to be from Connecticut and evidently you don't talk to girls from Connecticut. She was just plain rude.

It had taken all my courage to do that but I tried once more and the response was, ''I'm so glad you talked to me. I see you every day, too, and I was going to do exactly what you are doing." She was Joyce Leonard from Janesville, Iowa. We had so much in common- two country girls with the same values. Her husband was in the Navy Seabees. We found strength in each other and our lives continued to parallel. We were both, at that time, newlyweds; and we both waited for over two years to start a family. Both our sons were born in February and both are named Edward. That was nothing we mutually planned.

In our case it is a family tradition to name the first-born son after the grandfather, who was named after English royalty. The names Richard and Edward have been handed down through generations. My mother-in-law said if anyone was going to break the tradition, it would be me! I really did think I would but decided to name him Edward and call him by his middle name, which is Wade.

Both Joyce and I waited two more years to have our next children- again, no planning. It just happened. Rich and I stopped at two and she went on to have seven more, two were twins. We still correspond and we have gone to see their family. We helped each other get through our lives as service-men's wives.

After his active duty was over in '67, we came back to the family farm in Nebraska. Rich couldn't wait to get back to farming! Throughout the next six years he had Guard meetings one weekend a month. I helped with the farming, cooked for hired men and kept house. Edward Wade was born in '69, Heather in '71. It was a fulltime job taking care of them and the other responsibilities. I didn't go back to work outside the home until Heather was eight years old when I went to work for a veterinarian. I worked for him for eight years; then he moved his practice to Grand Island and I was without a job.

By 1985 the farm economy was growing steadily worse and worse and we were forced to make a decision to find something else. We found a corporate farm in Oklahoma. They needed a farm foreman. Richard applied and was the one they chose. He moved to Bartlesville in January, 1986. We had a farm sale in February. The kids and I moved in March.

The summer was spent unpacking boxes, meeting new people and getting acquainted with the city. We joined the Dewey United Methodist Church which quickly became our main focus, little knowing how much it and its people would come to mean to us. Evelyn Miller was the administrative secretary and we soon developed a lasting friendship. Through her recommendation, I was hired to the same job at the Oak Park United Methodist Church in Bartlesville. Word soon spread that I also liked to clean houses and was trustworthy, so I was hired by some of Bartlesville's elite to clean for them. They gave me the keys to their homes. The summer flew by and fall came. There were still some boxes we hadn't unpacked, but there seemed no reason: because basements are rare in Oklahoma, giving us no place to put our things.

Then it started to rain. It didn't stop raining, and a hurricane was coming in from the south. All told, we had over 16" of rain and the Copan and Hulah dams above us were on the verge of breaking. The corps of engineers said they would probably have to open the gates to relieve the water. The town would be flooded, but there was no cause for worry. We wouldn't be affected. Even all the local people said there had been floods in the past and the water never reached the ranch where we lived. Unfortunately, we believed them.

On October 3rd, 1986, the gates were opened. In a matter of hours anything below the dam was flooded. We knew the homes I cleaned for would be caught in it and, since the owners were out of town, and I had their keys, we spent all day moving their things as high as possible. We decided to stay in town that night because the roads surrounding us would be flooded. We went home and packed a few things. When we started to leave, we felt a little silly about putting our new couch on the top of the dining room table, but it was the first new one we had ever had. As I was going out the door, I also saw my wedding album lying on the coffee table. I went back and put it in the top drawer of the file cabinet. When we got into the car, Wade said he had taken all the guns out of the cabinet and put them on his bed. Rich was furious! He told him he should have left them where: they were. He had to eat his words later.

Watching television at our friends' home that night, we were having a good time when the corps of engineers came on the screen. They had miscalculated. They forgot that three new roads had been built since the last flood. They would act as dams, causing the water to hit and splash back. Areas that they had thought safe were then in danger. "If you are out, stay out. If you are not out, get out now and prepare for the worst." We heard those words and felt sick!

On October 4, our friends' home was fine and we went to see about the others. The water hadn't reached the homes we had spent so much time on the previous day but we could only get within two miles of our home. We stood there in disbelief looking at all the water! Even though we were looking right at it, our minds couldn’t believe what we saw! In addition, we had to keep backing up because the water was still rising. Water stood three feet deep in the house and six feet in the garage for two weeks before it started to recede.

Wade and a friend went by boat that day to get Heather's cat, Mandy. The water was moving so fast it was hard to keep the boat from washing downstream. When they reached the door, Mandy saw him and jumped into the water from atop the refrigerator to reach him. She was evidently too scared or confused to realize that she didn’t know how to swim.

While he was there, Wade also checked his bedroom. It was totally destroyed but the guns were safe since he had left them on the bed and the bed floated. The gun cabinet was in pieces. He also dug around and found both his and Heather's baby books. I had made sure they were always up to date, complete with pictures, and they both loved to look at them. (Being the third child, the only thing mine had in it was the date of my birth and how long Mom stayed in the hospital-two weeks and then the doctors let her dangle her toes! Quite different today.) We took the books back to the church and had pictures laid out all over the fellowship hall We worked so hard to save them but not many survived. The pages of the books were a blurry mess. I discovered that my wedding album was damp but okay and I was so thankful I had put it up.

It was several weeks before I could make myself go into the house. I kept trying to imagine what it would look like, and was preparing myself for the worst. Many of our church friends, including the minister, Golden Shook, went with me on the first day. The road we had to take was still under water, with one spot having a 9" drop off where the pavement had washed away. Don't think that wasn't scary! We held our breath each time we had to cross it.

When we got to the house, Evelyn was at my side. It was terrible! Everywhere we looked and everything we owned was covered with filthy, dirty, stinking flood mud. It was hard to stand. because the floor had buckled and was so slick! The cleanup began. Our friends came as often as they could to help, but they soon had to get back to their own lives. Rich had to help with the ranch cleanup and the kids were back in school. There I was, by myself I would go to work for a half day, then come back to try to clean up the mess. It was devastating!

What would I do first? I needed a box, but there weren't any boxes. I needed more Clorox, but the stores sold that out immediately and there wasn't any more. So many decisions to make, and I couldn't think straight. Should I keep this or throw it away? Could this be restored, or was it a total loss? I just wanted to sit down and cry, but there was no place to sit. About that time, Philippians 4:13 would pop into my mind, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." The strength would come and I would get a few more things done. The hours turned into days that turned into weeks that turned into months; but cleanup never ends and I would become so tired! Once again Philippians 4:13" would come to mind and once again I'd have the strength to go on. We lost practically everything, but we still had all that we needed.

Miraculously, no human lives were lost but death was very evident. As I stood watching the water rise on the first day, a tiny little mouse was running as fast as it could, trying to escape. Part of a tree was sticking out of the water, so he clung to one of the branches. His little sides were heaving, and then out of nowhere a snake came and swallowed him. A small herd of cows and calves were stranded on the roof of a shed, bellowing to be rescued. There was no way to reach them. The roof collapsed. They were trapped and, bit by bit, the bellowing stopped.

It was November 17, at 9:45 a.m. I was at work at the church when I got a phone call from Rich saying he had just lost his job! I couldn't believe it! He had to be mistaken, but it was no mistake. The flood had ruined all the farm equipment, and Mr. Adams, the owner of the ranch, decided to quit. If someone is going to discontinue farming, there is no need of a farm manager. That was Rich’s position- so what now? No job, no home, no family close to us.

I told the minister I worked for what had just happened and he told me to go home to be with Rich. The fog was so thick we could barely see the hood of the car, but within minutes Golden was there with us. We went back with him to the church to try to make sense of what was happening. Word spread quickly and help poured in. There was food, a place to stay, and shoulders to cry on. We were told there was an opening for a security position at WOOLAROC. Rich applied and, with good references from the church, he was offered the position that would begin in March.

WOOLAROC is located 14 miles southeast of Bartlesville and was the summer home of Frank Phillips, founder of Phillips Petroleum. It is now 36,000 acre wildlife and game preserve and an Indian museum. WOOLAROC is an acronym for woods, lakes and rocks. In my opinion, however, they should have added an "S" at the end for snakes of which there were an abundance­especially copperheads and rattlesnakes. Actually, scorpions, too. The scenery, however, was breathtaking. We were surrounded by elk, moose and several species of deer.

We lived at the gatehouse, which is at the main entrance. Almost everyone mistook it for an information center. In spite of signs being posted everywhere, I had complete strangers walking into my home and peering through my windows all the time. I guess they couldn't read. I continued to work at the church during the week and was the hostess at the Frank Phillip's Lodge on the weekends.

At that time, Wade was in college in Houston, Texas, and Heather was a junior in high school. One day she asked what I thought about her being a foreign exchange student. I commented, without giving it much thought, "That would be nice." The next thing I knew she received a letter saying she was accepted and would spend her senior year in Australia. It was really hard to watch her leave home to be so far away for such a long time when she was only 17. We stood and watched the plane until it was just a dot in the sky. Her host parents, Peter and Elaine Steele, lived in New South Wales and immediately made her feel at home. She loved it. Elaine's brother, "Uncle Max", worked for Qantas Airlines, an acronym for Queensland and Northern Air Service. Uncle Max was able to take her places and show her things most people wouldn't ordinarily get to do or see. She even got to see the Duke and Duchess of York.

She returned to America in May of 1989. Even though her freshman year of high school was in Utica, Nebraska; her sophomore year was in Dewey, Oklahoma; her junior year in Bartlesville, Oklahoma; and senior year in Australia, she maintained her honor roll status. In the fall of 1989 she enrolled at Oklahoma University in Norman. She liked OU but it didn't offer some of the courses she wanted to take so she transferred to Northeastern State University in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, and graduated cum laude with a degree in marketing and advertising in 1993.

At that time Wade was home. He married in 1990 and little Marissa was born in March of 1992. In December of that year, his wife filed for divorce. That was and still is a nightmare!

In 1989 I applied for a position at a physician's office and got the job. I really hated to leave the secretarial work at the church, but, economically, I had no choice. For the next five years I was a medical assistant to a gastroenterologist. Most people don't even want to think about what I did every day, but I loved it.

Rich had never cared for Oklahoma, as I did. He was always looking for something farm­related. There are not too many farmers in Oklahoma. There are lots of ranches and oil fields, but no farmers. One day he saw an ad for a Farm Manager with Farmers' National Company. After numerous interviews, phone calls and trips, he was offered the job. It was a good job, with good salary and good benefits. The only obstacle was that it was in Osceola, Iowa! My job was also a very good one and I didn't want to leave it unless we were sure that Rich's offer was secure and that this was what he wanted.

Rich moved to Iowa in 1993 and I stayed in Bartlesville. How could I leave my son and granddaughter, who were there? But Rich liked the job. It was everything that had been promised, so, when would I be coming? I kept finding reasons why I couldn't leave, but every phone call told me how much he liked Iowa, his job, a church he had found. He even sent me videos, so when was I coming? Eventually, I agreed and told the doctor I would be leaving. He didn't want me to go but I felt it was the right thing to do. Rich had found an acreage south of town, so in February, 1994, Heather and I moved to Osceola. I felt, as had my grandmother, "Whither thou goest..."

One day Heather and I were unpacking the boxes we had packed a few days earlier, when a car drove in. We didn't know anyone, so we figured it was a salesman and whatever he was selling, we didn't want any. But it wasn't a salesman. It was a lady with pure white hair. She came to the door, called Heather and me by name, and said her name was Sophie Bennink. She was from the church and had brought our supper! Really! Wow! She said she was so glad to finally meet me. They had been praying for us for a long time. That must have been why I finally decided to leave Oklahoma. She has become one of my dearest friends. She always seems to be there when I need her.

Since moving here, we bought our first home; and Heather met her husband-to-be while working in Des Moines. David Nandell and Heather celebrated their first anniversary on May 11, 1997. She now works for American Republic and David for Robert Half, Inc., as a computer systems analyst.

Wade is still in Oklahoma and works for the State at the Port of Catoosa. He remarried in November, 1995. His wife, Jeri, has three children by a previous marriage, so I am now a grandmother and step-grandmother. Grandchildren are surely lots of fun!

Life hasn't been a bed of roses since we moved here. Major traumas were that we had to put my dog, Blue, to sleep and I had her for all her 14 years. She was always by my side. We also had to put Heather’s cat, Mandy, to sleep. She was 17-years-old. But, as I look back over my life, there is so much to be thankful for. Mainly there has been my Christian upbringing. This greatly affected the tone of my father's death:

On my 25th birthday, I was told that my father was afflicted with a third inoperable brain tumor. The next six months were spent in and out of the hospital with each day that passed, his condition failed. Since the hospital could do no more for him, he was sent to a nursing home. The last five weeks of his life were spent in an expressionless coma. This once virile man was wasting away to nothing.

On the evening of November 12, 1973, my mother, brother, Rich and I were at his side. We heard him yawn, the kind of yawn he always had made just before he awoke. We went to his side and he was soon gasping for breath. Then he opened his eyes and, as he looked upward, he smiled the most beautiful smile, as if seeing a glorious sight. Then he was gone. I can believe angels came to escort him home.

I have always said that I'd like to see an angel, and I think I did. I am constantly losing my direction. I have been teased that I could get lost in a paper bag. While in Oklahoma, on my way to an interview at the Oak Park United Methodist Church, I was on an unfamiliar road that came to a T. Which way should I turn? I decided on turning right but as I drove on, there seemed to be nothing but hills, trees and miles and miles of miles and miles. I realized that I had gone the wrong direction so turned around to start back.

Suddenly I heard an awful sound and knew I had a flat tire! What would I do? I was in the middle of nowhere. My interview was in 15 minutes, I was in heels and dress clothes. I considered walking, but there seemed nowhere to walk to. I started, and hadn't gone far when I heard a vehicle coming behind me. Oh, no! I confess that I imagined the worst. I didn't know If I wanted the driver to stop but I was desperate and flagged him down.

It turned out to be a lady! During the course of our conversation, she told me her name that she was from Skiatook and was going to a church meeting in Barnsdall. Those names meant nothing to me. I explained my situation and she agreed that I had turned the wrong way. She invited me to get in and, "I'll take you to a phone." I couldn't imagine where we would find a phone in this desolate area, but around the comer was a rural home that I hadn't remembered seeing at all. The family was home and allowed me to use the phone. Rich answered at the ranch office, remarking that I was lucky to have caught him because he usually wasn't around at that time of day.

Rich said he would be there right away and the lady said she would wait. When he came, we decided that he would take me to the interview while a ranch hand fixed the tire. When I turned to thank the lady, she was gone! She had simply vanished! At that point I could see for miles in every direction and there was no sign of her!

I got to the interview on time. It went well and I got the job. Later that evening I looked up the towns of Skiatook and Barnsdall. Both are south of Bartlesville, so there is no explanation for why she was on the north side of the city, on a road to nowhere. The mystery is still fresh in my mind and it remains one of my most beautiful experiences.

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