NATALIE CARMEN ROCHE

My maiden name was Martin and my family roots go back to Norway. We are Norwegian, with some Scotch-Irish and German mixed in. I was born in 1967, to Dean and Jean Martin, in Harmony, southern Minnesota, and raised in Oakland a short distance from there on a 160-acre farm. I have five living siblings, three girls and two boys. There was one set of twins, Jessie and Jeremy, a girl and a boy, who were still-born. My parents had a service for them and they were buried in our family plot, as is Charlie, who is also gone. His was a crib death.

I could write a book about my parents. My mom was an achiever — a big party person. She would organize and host neighborhood parties. The 4th of July celebration was a barbecue and local people being given an opportunity to display their talents. We had singers and guitar-players providing the music. The adults would listen and we kids ran around with sparklers. We were thrilled to have sparklers. That was all we needed.

In the Christmas season, Mom would stay up all night long, probably a month before December 25th, to get ready. Friends and neighbors would come to the house that was always filled with the aroma of the rolls, cookies, and pies being baked. She was an amazing cook! Staples were lutefisk and lefsa and all kinds of Norwegian cookies. We still carry on that tradition. She made every aspect of the season wonderful! Not only the food but all the decorations were homemade, even the tablecloths! For us kids, the way she did it defined Christmas. As a child, it, was just "Wow!"

In the summertime, I helped collect things from her garden that was just forever. She was always out working in the garden. I think back to how hard she worked, by her choice. She sewed, even making wedding dresses, recovered furniture, and had her own business making quilted jackets for people. She put a lot of time and talent into our Lutheran Church, where we went every Sunday. She put on the plays, made all the sets, and did background arrangements. She was simply an amazing woman in general and our mother in particular.

In our family home, the tables were painted, the bathroom had a big wall mural. It was very different from every other place I'd been, but it was Mom's touch and her creative and adventuresome spirit. During my growing-up years, I thought I didn't much care for the farm, but now, as an adult, I see the value of growing up there. There were times when I thought, "Why can't we move to town where my friends are? This is ridiculous." But I think growing up on a farm and not having a lot of money made us versatile. We had to fix and repair the tractor, paint, and do things ourselves in the home because we couldn't afford to have somebody else do it, and because we could do it.

Dad was a farmer and also did road construction. He was a big man, gone a lot, no doubt working hard to feed us. What we knew about Dad was that we'd better not get in trouble because if we did, we'd be in more trouble at home. With him it wasn't as much hands-on guidance as the awareness that there was this entity of power. There was something about just knowing the strength that was there that kept us in line. Except — he was kind of surprising, too. There was a time when I was on the basketball team, and we girls didn't do anything very daring— just not something we'd particularly have wanted our folks to know about. We got caught and taken to the police station. Parents were called and we were all pretty scared. One by one the parents picked up their daughters giving me more and more time to sit and imagine what trouble I'd be in and what my punishment might be. Here came Dad, and he didn't say a word while I got in the car — not a word! Then, all of a sudden he started laughing, and years later when it was mentioned, he was still laughing Dad was and still is a work-alcoholic. He's retired now, still lives on the farm. It had been his dad's farm, the one where I grew up.

Mom died of cancer in 1999. That brought on lots of soul-searching. I've been able to look back on all the good things, the bad things, and the realities of it all. I held my mom in high regard and I still do even with what I've decided is more realistic.

Thinking back on my childhood, I remember that I did a lot of things by myself. I'm kind of a loner, actually. I spent a lot of time by myself with my imagination. I would follow the cattle paths in the pasture and pretend I was this Indian girl on my imaginary horse, because I had always wanted a horse and didn't get one until I was in junior high. I was a performer type and I used to perform for the cattle in the lot. It really caught their attention when I started singing —their ears came up and they watched me. It seems silly but I really liked doing that. I was also a World Champion figure skater when the pond froze.

I graduated from Austin High School in 1985. My big thing in school was sports. I was active in softball and basketball, the latter being my favorite. I dearly loved it. I was co-captain of the team and regret that I didn't continue to play, but during my senior year, I fell in love and decided to get married. About a year after I graduated, at the age of 19, I was married. Maybe I was foolish, but I received an education from traveling around, dealing with life on life's tetras.

Meet Daniel Roche. He was the same age as I, full of life; he liked sports, and was captain of the football team. We had been friends all through school and in our senior year we decided, "Why not date?" One thing led to another and I married my first love. My education continued, just on a different course.

Daniel graduated from Austin High when he was 19. About a year later, in 1986, he enlisted in the Army. He left for training, asked me to marry him, and we were married in Maryland. We were off, gallivanting about the world for eight years. Our first duty station was at Fort Riley, Kansas. We were there a couple years. His MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) was a mechanic, track vehicle repair. I worked at the Officers' Club as a hostess. I was also a cashier and played on a softball team.

Shortly before we were transferred to Germany in 1988, Danielle was born in Rochester, Minnesota. I had some trouble delivering her. I was about eight months pregnant when a blood clot formed in my leg, so I was hospitalized for two weeks. Dan was in Geimany by that time, and they flew him back. It was determined that Danielle was fine and everything was okay. Dan went back and a month later Danielle — one month old — and I hopped on a plane to go live in Germany for a few years. I think of how young I was — 21 years old, and I just thought, "Okay, that's what I'll do." Sometimes being naive is okay. It lets you do challenging things.

I had Tyler when Danielle was 15 months old. Unexpected but welcome. He was born in a German hospital with the help of a mid-wife, who didn't speak a word of English, so here we were, alone together. I was having contractions, trying, in the very little German I kaew, to give her the phone number of my husband so she could call him to come because the baby was being born. With Danielle, I was in Rochester with probably eight doctors and all the nurses running around. I had oxygen and stirrups and the whole gamut. With Tyler I was on a flat bed — just me and a midwife. That was it. No medication, no anything. It was quite an experience. Natural childbirth was pretty horrible as I was going through it, but I don't seem to remember the pain. The doctor showed up as this tall, lanky baby was coming out and everything was fine.

We were in Germany for three years. While we were there we experienced the wall coming down, visited Dachau, the concentration camp, and went to many German fests. Between duty stations in Germany to Ft. Stewart, Georgia, Dan was called to serve in the Gulf War. The kids and I stayed at my parents' home in Minnesota, then a month or so before he came home, we found a place to live in Hinesville, Georgia just outside of Ft. Stewart. While we lived there, I volunteered two days a week at the Army Hospital on base.

After 8 1/2 years of service, we opted out of the military. Dan used the GI bill to become an electrical lineman. That is how we came to Osceola in '94. He worked for Clarke Electric Co-op. I worked at Fareway and took classes at SWCC (Southwestern Community College) thinking I wanted to become a nurse. Then the job at Bruce's dental office opened up. It would work perfectly for me, so I took it and have been there ever since. I continue to take classes now and then and wonder what I will be when I grow up.

In 1999, at the same time I was going through the death of my mom, Daniel and I were divorced. Our mariage failed and we realized the choices we made at 19 were of no regret, just different from who I had become. Losing my mom like I did, made me stop in my tracks and think, "Okay, who am I, what am I doing and what do I want in my life?" I just sort of recognized the way I was going wasn't it anymore. I wasn't the same person I had been when Dan and I were married. I needed to head down a different path. Difficult as it was, it was the right thing for me.

Dan moved back to Minnesota and Tyler lives near him, has a job and is trying to figure out what's next for his future. My daughter is attending Hair Tech in Creston and it seems to fit well for her.

I've been in Bruce's office since 1996 — 12 years, wow! I really enjoy my job there. I'm kind of a busy-body person so the job fits me well. Along with that I am a Mary Kay consultant and have done that for a few years. I have been doing photography on the side, getting deeper and deeper into that, and really enjoying it. I've done senior photos. A couple of years ago I did a photo project with the help of the Clarke Area Arts Council, the Development Corporation, and -White's Woodworking. The project was titled, "Why We Live Here." It included people from Clarke County. The photos were displayed at the casino, the winery, the American State Bank and are now back at the casino. My goal was to capture Clarke County, the different people, situations, ages, careers, hobbies — somebody that rides a Harley, somebody who likes to garden, somebody who lives on a farm — just all kinds of differences. Questions in my mind were: What makes these people live here? Why Iowa? Why Osceola? What's going on in their lives? I tried to capture the essence of what Clarke County is. It was fun talking with them and finding out these things. Even though they are people whom we would say we know, there is so much we don't know. There are so many stories out there! It is never-ending. Each person has something unique.

I am also a member of the Arts Council Board and I've enjoyed that for three years. I am on the Business Betterment Committee, under the auspices of Chamber/Main Street.

Plays! Five years ago, a lady in town proposed we should do a play. We had performance theater, and plays were going to be picking up. Bruce said, "Why don't you go out for a play?" I said, "I've never done that." But I decided to try it. I remember writing on the sign up sheet that I did not want a major part — something small as my first play.

I was really nervous but excited. I got a part in my first play, "Lil Abner," and from that moment on I was hooked! I've learned so much about myself and other people. It is such a wonderful group, lots of neat, interesting people. We spend a lot of time together and there is something really valuable not just about the performance but the practice involved in getting there. I've grown to enjoy every aspect of them. I love watching them, I love being in them, I get excited about the next one to come. I've learned what I can do and I think I am better for making myself do something I was pretty uncomfortable with. I think there are lots of things in my life that I do with that approach. If I am challenged — sometimes I'm scared, but I'm going to do it anyway because I am going to get something out of it.

And Bruce has been really good for me. He has been a friend who encouraged me to expand who I was. We both love to travel and have experienced some pretty neat places together. We enjoy playing tennis, canoeing, hiking, skiing and he maybe wouldn't admit it, but I can beat him in foosball and ping pong.

I feel pretty good about my life and pretty comfortable about who I am. Everyday I get up and feel good that I'm alive. I really look forward to the day and wonder what I am going to learn that day. There will be something that will change me just a little bit. What will it be? I really enjoy life. Through the years people have made remarks that I have incorporated into my way of viewing life. From my mother I learned to be kind. She had an amazing heart. "Treat others as you want to be treated," From both mom and dad I learned the value of hard work; `If you are going to do something, then do it." With my dad, if we were 15 minutes early, we were late. I've always been ahead of schedule on most things. I hate being late and I got that from him.

There was a coach who said to my son, "Always treat every game and every moment you're playing as the big time. This is the big time. Don't always be looking 'out there' for what could be or is going to be. Treat each moment as though this is it!" I adopted that and always try to remember it. Even though I have some bad moments, that is the goal I shoot for.

I worked for a talent agency in Des Moines for a couple of years, just bit parts, but our coach told me one time, which is actually a quote from Nelson Mandela, " Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Who are you not to be brilliant? Your playing small doesn't serve the world." That caught my attention. It made sense.

As I grow older, I think I am more comfortable in my skin. I like who I am, I enjoy people, I enjoy trying new things. I'm getting little signs of age, my little squinty eyes, and gray hair is coming in, but I don't care — I really don't. I may try to cover them up if I can, but they aren't important. This is a better time of my life than the teens and 20s, when I worried about things that really weren't that important. Some people talk about wishing they could live their lives over. No way! I used to think in my 20s that when I got to be 40, life would be over but here I am and I'm thinking, "I like this better!" Hopefully I'll continue to feel that.

Return to main page for Recipes for Living 2008 by Fern Underwood

Last Revised October 19, 2014