Recipes for Living Richard and Barbara Gunderson

My name is Richard Gunderson, and I was born in North Dakota in October 1936. I am part of a family of seven children raised on a farm in that state. My siblings and I thought our childhood was interesting enough to preserve its memory, and we wrote a book about our family background: Growing Up on the Farm in the '3Os, '40s, and '50s. My brother, Dale, in Minneapolis did most of it. I would like to share excerpts from it because it reveals so much about why I am who I am, with the values and work ethic I have. It also portrays a way of life that is no more, a way that protected us from problems that are corrupting a segment of society today, specifically our youth, who do not have the advantages we did of a loving, caring community that involved the extended family, and work to do that made an important contribution.

Our "family community'' included our mother's parents, Minnie and Christian Anderson, who lived just three miles east of our farm. Grandma Anderson lived there several years after Grandpa died, and we used to visit her on Sunday afternoons to read the comic strips in the Sunday paper: Prince Valiant, Popeye, the Katzenjammer Kids, and others. We usually found her sitting in her rocking chair with a shawl over her shoulders, and she frequently had her Norwegian Bible in her lap.

Dad's parents were Ida and Alfred Gunderson. Dad had three sisters, and all of them had large families so when we had a family get-together, there would always be cousins about our age to play with. Grandpa Gunderson was not well educated, but he certainly was an intelligent man, and he loved children. Like many others, he wore bib overalls and he always seemed to have gum, usually Juicy Fruit, in his bib pocket.

Our family grew up on a diversified farm - we had a little bit of everything. On such a farm, there was a variety of animals in addition to horses, both to bring in cash and to help feed the family. A diversified farm must also produce the feed for all these animals. Consequently the land was devoted to raising oats, barley, com, maybe millet, sometimes sugar cane, and wheat for a cash crop. For the most part, prior to World War II, fertilizer was the manure from the bam, chicken coop, hog house, and feed lot. And, perhaps most importantly, a diversified farm of 240 acres was large enough to afford a family a decent living provided there was not a drought, dirt storms, hail, rust, or grasshoppers to prevent it - and those things did happen in the "dirty thirties."

When we were growing up, our parents had a big influence on our lives. Living on a farm meant we spent a lot of time with them - they were always there. Even when we went somewhere, it was almost always as a family. Ours were loving parents, although being Norwegian, they were not demonstrative. And even though we didn't ever hear the word "love," we certainly could feel it.

Our mother was strong-willed and definitely ran the household. She made the decisions about what we ate, what we wore, and, to a large extent, where we went. She felt that education was very important. She insisted we all go to high school and encouraged us to go on to college. Religion was probably more important to her than to Dad. She was the one who made sure we went to church, Sunday School, and confirmation. She also had strong feelings about alcohol and in the late 30s was a member of the Women's Christian Temperance Union.

Dad was an easy-going, hard-working father. He made the decisions about running the farm - what crops and animals we raised, when we sold grain or animals, what machinery we bought, etc. He believed that "whatever will be, will be," which led to his being able to roll with the punches. He didn't get discouraged when the crops got hailed out, or dried out, or a cow died, or any of the other setbacks that frequently occurred. Working with him was a good experience for us boys. He wasn't hard on us but we did work hard. We consider it an advantage that we grew up on a farm, observing the type of work our parents did, but also having the opportunity to work with them.

How did they handle discipline? Spanking was not unheard of, but it was infrequent. Allen, being the oldest, may have received more than the rest of us put together - perhaps on the assumption that if the oldest was kept in line, the others would follow suit.

A copy of this book is available in the Osceola Public Library. We still own the farm we grew up on. Nobody lives there, but we all know where the key is and can go there anytime we want to. We've left the house just as it was. There are neighbors who are aware of the circumstances and would alert us if they saw something objectionable, but we are confident that no one bothers the property.

I wrote about attending Moore School, starting first grade in 1942, and the four classmates I started with went through all eight grades together. I suppose it was in first grade that I had a big disappointment discovering there was no Santa Claus. Possibly before school started, I had whooping cough. As was customary, the county public health nurse put the house under quarantine with a notice on the door. Just before Christmas, my brother Dale and I were worried that Santa Claus wouldn't come if the sign was there, so we tore it down. It is possible Dale was leading me on. He would have been about 10 years old and must surely have known.

I graduated from high school in Lisbon, North Dakota in 1954, and in January 1955, I volunteered for the draft and was drafted into the U.S. Army. I took my basic training in Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri. What I remember was that it was so cold, which seems strange because of where I came from. Granted the Dakota temperature would dip far below zero, but it was a different kind of cold. Missouri had the dampest cold I could imagine, and, of course, we were out in all kinds of weather. We gave Ft. Leonard Wood the title of "Little Korea." Later, I did go to Korea, and I agreed with the name it had been given. We had the same type weather.

After eight weeks of basic training, I was sent to Ft. Knox, Kentucky for 10 weeks of tank training. I was held over as Tank Training Commander for another 10 weeks, the next training session. Following that 20 weeks, I went to Korea in a packet platoon - meaning we all went.

This was the fall of 1955, and although the cease fire was declared in 1953, everybody was still there in place. It is a bit strange that we were not fighting, but we had tanks. However, we were there as a peace keeping force to defend the south. If we had withdrawn completely, North Korea would have pushed south again, like what happened when the Chinese came in a few years before that.

This was serious business. We moved around quite a bit. We would be on the front lines for awhile, until somebody replaced us and we'd go back. The North Koreans were on one side of the line, the Americans and South Koreans on the other, with the DMZ (demilitarized zone) between. I don't remember how wide the zone was, but the North and South Koreans each had half of it, and nobody was supposed to be in there. Sometimes the Koreans would go in and start to build houses, which we'd have to knock down. One time when we did this, the people were watching from behind trees. It was too bad, but they knew they weren't supposed to build there.

To say they would begin to "build" may give a wrong impression. Everything was very primitive. We lived in tents. Their "houses" were dried mud huts with mud or clay floors, but somehow they had heat underneath. I am sure they tried to keep them as clean as they could with what they had.

There were all kinds of terrain in Korea. We were north of Seoul, where it was hilly with small trees, more like shrubs. In the valleys between the hills, there were rice paddies with trails around them. Farms were small and farmed with oxen. Everything was done by hand, and they carried everything on their backs. The villages were clusters of the mud huts, very primitive.

We were kept very busy doing maintenance work on our tanks, because the government brought in no new equipment. I trained on newer tanks than we had in Korea. Ours was Tank Company of 21st Infantry Regiment, 24th Division, and I was a gunner on the platoon leader's tank. In the fall of 1956, I was promoted to Sergeant and was Tank Commander, at which time I had my own tank and crew.

I was in Korea 16 months, until December 1956, and during that time, there was a set of circumstances that could have been fatal. One Sunday I was on guard duty, and some G I's were walking down the road. I heard one guy talking and I immediately recognized a Norwegian brogue. As it turned out, this was Bobby Berg from my home town. I hadn't realized he was in Korea. He was a cook in his company, which was next door to us. We went up to his headquarters company that evening. We didn't have running water, but we had a portable shower in our area, and he rode up to take a shower. We rode up in a water truck, but when we came back, we caught a ride in a jeep. I was going to get in back and Berg in the front, but I had made Staff Sergeant either that day or that week, so I was the ranking man. He insisted I get in front and he in the back. That was the way it had to be.

It was at night, and we met a 2 1/2 ton truck. The lights apparently blinded the jeep driver. He went off the road and through some concertina wire, also called razor ribbon, up a hill, then we rolled back down the road. I was pinned under the jeep but Bobby Berg was killed. He didn't die immediately. They took him and the jeep driver out in the first helicopter and by the time they had taken me to the Evac hospital, they had already taken him to Japan. He died there the next day. The driver lost his arm. If I'd been in the back, I'd have been killed.

I was saved by some Koreans who lifted the jeep off me. There is a story behind that. When I was five or six years old, my older sister and a friend had an Ouija board and loved to tell fortunes. When they spelled out the name of my girlfriend in first grade, I was pretty impressed. But they also said I was going to die when I was 19 years old. Lying under the jeep, unable to breathe, that was the first thing that came to my mind. I thought my time was up. When the jeep was lifted off me, I could breathe again. I spent several weeks in the hospital.

This was a military hospital, pretty crude, but we had the best of care and equipment. It was a large hospital, and I was in a pretty big ward, but as I laid there, I was impressed by how many were gun shot victims. Of course, we never knew who was coming into the area. In spite of lights being on, it was pretty dark, and there would be stealing and people defending themselves or their territory. There were also lots of land mines buried there and some of the farmers would be blown up.

When I eventually went home, it was tough to see Berg's family. They went to the same church as we did. My parents went to visit his parents as soon as they knew I'd been in the same accident. They had received word that Berg was dead, but they didn't know I was involved. I formed a close relationship with his parents for several years. His father has been dead for quite awhile. His mother died just a couple months ago.

I was in Korea 16 months, which was the length of the tour of duty then, and 50 years later everything is still as it was then. We still have troops in Korea: I suppose that is the way it will be in Iraq. I don't know how we can afford all this.

I went to Korea on a troop ship and back on a troop ship. It took about 16 days. I was scheduled to be discharged the 28th of December. It was quite an experience. I enjoyed the Army. It gave me a lot of insight. I went for a week in Tokyo. It wasn't that long after WWII. It was very interesting.

My Norwegian roots go very deep. My name is Barbara Svestad Gunderson. My mother was a Gunderson, my grandmother was an Anderson. My husband's mother was an Anderson and married a Gunderson, but no relation. It was a Scandinavian custom for the oldest son to pick up the first name of the father and become----'s son. Thus the family of Peter's son would be Peterson, Gunder's son would be Gunderson, etc.

To verify my memories, I have a family tree of my immediate family, and a book of photographs with a brief history, actually of the Svestad farm. It tells that between 1865 and 1884 workers from many different places went to Roros to help with the construction of the railroad. Some bought land, as did my great grandfather, Tobias Larsson Brennodden. He lived between August 16, 1850 and March 26, 1894. His wife was Sigrid, and her dates were August 16, 1845 to May7, 1901. They established their property in the late 1870s and Sigrid became the legal owner when she was widowed.

They had six children. Gjertrud and Tina immigrated to the United States. Lars was a railway engineer and probably settled in Tolga. When a baby died it was customary to give the name to another child, so there was Sigrid 1, who died as a baby, and Sigrid 2. My grandfather, Peter, was the other son. Grandfather took the name Svestad and gave the farm that name. He took over the property on June 15, 1909. He and grandmother lived their first years as a married couple in a little house before they moved to a timber house, where most of the children were born. My father was Trygve and he had three brothers and three sisters: Sverre, Karsten, Olav, Elbjorg, Sigrunn, and Paula.

There was little space in their house, so the boys slept under the attic in the wintertime and on the ''buret" (a storehouse on pillars) in the summertime. When the new house was finished in 1921, the property consisted of six houses - the new house, a timber house, a cowhouse, a barn, a "stabbur" (also a storehouse on pillars), and a woodshed with a storage room.

On 19 January 1923, grandfather gave a deed of conveyance by guardian to my father, Trygve, who was 17 years old. Trygve immigrated to America in 1926 and grandfather took over again and ran the farm until approximately 1945. Uncle Sverre and his wife Inga lived in the timber house the first years of their marriage, moved to Sanne in 1937, and back to Svestad about 1948. Olav and Eldbjorg lived there with their four daughters until their house was finished, then Karsten took over on 14 June 1963. Grandfather, Peter Svestad, died 1 January 1964, and Grandmother Sigrid moved in with Aunt Paula. Karsten rented out the place until he and his wife, Gjertrud, moved there in 1975.

The writer of this history knew the grandparents well and described the grandmother as "silent, secure, and kind, but with poor hearing. The grandfather was determined, loved to read, was a good storyteller, and wrote songs for every special occasion. He loved hunting and fishing and could never do without the hare hunting."

My father was 20 years old when he came to America in 1926. He has lived here every since, he and Mother going back for a month 50 years later to visit. For a short time, Father lived with an aunt and uncle in North Dakota before he settled in Kathryn, North Dakota. In 1930, he married my mother, Elfie, and they continued to live in that area all their lives. That is where my sisters and I were born. Ruth Eleanor, Carol Jean, Shirley Mae, and I were the youngest (Barbara Jane). My sisters still live in North Dakota. Ruth lives in Stanley, which is west of Minot, Carol in Fargo, and my sister Shirley lives in Kathryn. We stay in close touch. Carol's husband died in 1999 of Alzheimer’s disease. He was about 10 years older than Carol.

I was born April 19, 1940 in the small town of Kathryn, North Dakota, where I lived until I was four years old, when we moved to a farm two miles outside town. We lived there until 1958 when Richard and I were married. We had cattle, so we milked cows, and we had two horses for farm work. The only farming we did was raising hay for the livestock. We raised a few hogs, and in the fall we butchered two of them and sold four. Our mother, my four sisters, and I would get to split the money for those four pigs. I always helped my dad butcher the hogs. My job was to stir the blood that was caught after the throat was slit. From that Mother made blood krub. After the blood had cooled down, we mixed in flour and chunks of side pork, and poured it into a cloth bag. That was put into boiling water and cooked until it was done. When it
was done and cooled, we peeled off the cloth, sliced it, put it in a frying pan, added cream, and ate it for breakfast with sugar sprinkled over it.

There was a use for every part of the hog. Mother cleaned the head and made head cheese, which took quite awhile. It had to be cooked; then all the small pieces of meat had to be taken off. They were put in a cloth, covered with another cloth and something heavy put on it to pack it down. After it was firm, it could be sliced, and we ate it plain or on bread or crackers.

Another dish was Lutefisk. This is dried codfish. Lute is lye, so it is lye fish. Grocery stores had it in barrels, and we bought it by the pound. At home, we had to soak it in many washes of water to get the lye off. To cook it, it was dropped in boiling hot water for a short time, and it was served with drawn (melted) butter over it. Mother served this with lefsa and flat bread that she also made. Lefsa is a Norwegian dish, made out of potatoes, flour, a little cream and milk, and salt. It is stirred together, made into a ball and rolled it out flat, until it almost looks like a tortilla; most of them are about size of a plate. These are fried on a griddle, and we ate them with butter and a little sugar. That was one of the Norwegian delicacies. The flat bread Mother made out of com meal, and it is also rolled real flat, and fried on a griddle. There are a lot of Norwegian pastries. I don't make these dishes, but I've found a place in North Dakota, from which I can order them.

When we had cattle, we usually had 10 to 16 and it was the job for Mother and us girls to milk the cows because Dad was a carpenter, painter, put up chimneys, and did cement work - a little bit of everything, so he left early in the morning. I started milking when I was about six years old. Each of us has certain cows to milk. Shirley and I had to get them. We lived in the hills and we did lots of walking because they would be in one of several pastures. One herd was even on the other side of the railroad tracks so we had to open the gate and let the cows go across, then close the gates on either side of the tracks we had to cross. There was just one train a day, so it wasn't hard to keep track of whether or not it was coming.

The farm was owned by an estate so we had to divide half of everything. Once a month Dad went to the administrator to bring their share of the money. If there were calves, they were always sold and the money was divided. Our horses eventually both died but it was about the time when the farm was sold, and they also sold the cattle. The folks probably lived there another 10 years. The people who bought the farm didn't have milk cows, but they had beef cattle, and we kept them.

Until I was a sophomore in high school and could drive to school, I walked the two miles to Kathryn or rode a bicycle, even in the winter. I didn't have many options. My sister Shirley was five years older than I, so she drove, but she changed schools when they closed the high school at Kathryn, and stayed in that town. We only had one car. Dad needed it to go to his job and Mother didn't drive.

As Richard discovered, the Midwest cold was different from the kind we had, but we definitely had winter. Our roads weren't very good, although they did eventually build them up so they could be kept open in the wintertime. But I can remember when I was in the lower grades, we went to school in the sleigh with horses, which was also the way we went if we visited our neighbors. The drifts would be as high as the fence posts, and the roads stayed that way until the weather changed. It was usually March before it warmed up and the snow melted. Occasionally there were warming trends when the snow plow finally did come, but they didn't have that many snow plows in the county, and what they had were assigned to better roads.

Also, in those days the mail came by train, so when we got lots of snow, there would be no mail for many days. The cuts between the hills filled in with snow and the trains wouldn't be able to get through. Eventually they brought out the big snow plows, and with them and men shoveling they would finally get the tracks cleared so the train could get through. There were times when the train would get so far, and if the roads were open, the mailmen would drive to where the train was to get the mail.

I met Richard before he went to service, and after he was discharged I met him again at a dance in 1957. One of the highlights of growing up was the Friday night dances. The girls lined up on one side of the room and the boys on other. That was how Richard and I met. We started going together Christmas Day in 1957, and were married in August 1958. We moved to a farm a couple miles from his folks. We had a few cows, some pigs, and when we started milking, we didn't have a milker so we did it by hand. That was a job I was familiar with, so I helped with that. We rented the ground we farmed with his dad.

In the fall of 1959, our son Mike was born, and in the fall of '60, Richard started working for the USDA. The son of the people who owned the farm we were renting was coming out of the service, and wanted to come back and farm. So we moved into Lisbon, North Dakota, and that is where our two daughters were born- Lori in March of 1961, and Julie in April of 1962. We lived there until the summer of '62, when we moved to Ft. Ransom, North Dakota, and then to West Fargo. When we moved to West Fargo, Richard was transferred as inspector in the stock yards. After two years, that job was eliminated so he had the option of transferring or resigning.

That brought us to Osceola, Iowa in July 1965, to look for housing. It was one of the hot, humid times, and I didn't like it very well. I wasn't pleased about moving but Richard said if we tried it and didn't like it, we would move back home, so we packed up everything and came. We found a place to live northwest of town, and lived there until October 1966, when we moved into town. In 1970, we bought an acreage of 80 acres southeast of town. We bought some cattle and pigs, and in 1972, we put up a house, moved to the farm, and sold the house in town. We lived there until 2001, when we moved about 1 ½ miles south on land we had bought previously, and put up a new house.

There were lots of adjustments when we moved here. In West Fargo, Richard was home, but when we came to Iowa, his work took him all over the state. He would be gone a week at a time. He would go on Monday morning and be back on Friday. In the fall of 1970, he spent a whole month in Virginia on hog detail. It might have been October, but what I remember most was that it was foggy most of that time.

We also had to make a change in our church affiliation. We were Norwegian Lutherans, which is most nearly like American or Evangelical Lutheran. The only Lutheran Church here was the Missouri Synod. Richard's supervisor, Dr. Crane, lived here. They were Lutherans who had come from Elkhorn, and they had an experience similar to ours, so they started going to the Methodist Church. The Lutheran minister called on us and said if we were going to join, we would have to take instructions. Richard declared he'd taken all the instructions he was interested in taking, so we followed the Cranes and went to the United Methodist.

Richard retired in 1995. His affiliation with the US Department of Agriculture began in 1960. In the intervening years, he says, "I worked in the Animal, Plant and Health Inspection Service. I started as the Brucellosis Technician, inspecting for that disease, and vaccinated calves. I spent three years as inspector in the stock yards in Fargo, North Dakota. When I transferred to Osceola in 1965, it was as Livestock Inspector General, and the last 10 years I was an investigator for Iowa and surrounding states in the regulation and enforcement of animal care."

Barbara resumes her story: After the kids started to school, I went to work for Ron Ogan, and was there 10 1/2 years along with taking care of the cattle. While Julie was in kindergarten, a neighbor lady took care of her when I was at the store. I also worked 10 years at Dr. Woods' Vet Clinic, when he started doing embryo transplants.

Our lives have changed a bit since Richard has officially retired. We still have cattle, although now we've cut down to about 30 head instead of 100. We've had a camper for quite a few years, bought a new one last year, and hope to use it more. We usually take it when we go to North Dakota for a family reunion. We've found it easier, because ordinarily the house is already full. Last year there were five trailers, because a sister and three cousins had their trailers. It seemed as though North Dakota had been infested with mosquitoes. When we camped out at night or were near trees or woods, they were really bad. We also camped out at the Old Threshers reunion at Mt. Pleasant.

Richard is employed by Swine Graphics to haul hogs three days a week. He uses his truck, picks up a trailer at the Wash and Weigh in Osceola, and then goes to Albia. Some days he hauls sows; some days baby pigs, and haul them to their plant west of Diagonal. He makes the round trip, usually getting home by noon. So he is busy three days a day, and he is involved with the American Legion Post of which he is presently the Commander. I babysit with our greatgrandson every so often, and I bowl very Wednesday morning.

I am in touch with relatives in Norway. I have an aunt still living there. My cousin Tor has been to the United States four times. He calls and e-mails me from time to time. He lives at Saarsborg. He is my grandfather Svestad's sister's grandson, so he is my second cousin. He would like us to come to visit. He has a house, his lady friend has a house, and he has a farm house close to my aunt in the mountains. It has five bedrooms, two bathrooms, and we could stay there. All my family is up in that area. Some of the cousins are in Oslo and Kongsvinger, and I think I have a couple cousins in Sweden, so it would be quite a reunion if we went to visit. My sisters went back and spent about 10 days on the farm. My aunt lives very close and they drove into Sweden. It isn't out of the question.

Our children are doing well. Mike married Cindy Ruebendall. They live in Morrison, Illinois. They have two daughters and three granddaughters. Mike is the plant manager for Mallard Manufacturing Company in Sterling, Illinois and his wife works at the school in Morrison.

Lori married Randy Mease, and they live in Des Moines. Randy owns his own company, Action Electric, and Lori works there as a secretary. They have two daughters, Lindsay and Brooke, and Lori also has a step son and step daughter. They have two granddaughters.

Julie is married to Kent Dudney. They live at Weldon, farm and raise cattle, horses, and pigs. Julie is also employed full time at Paul Mueller Company in Osceola, where she is shipping and receiving clerk. Kent is an electrician with Baker Electric out of Des Moines. They have four children. Kolby is also an electrician with Baker Electric, Jesse is in the Marines, stationed at Naval Nuclear Submarine Base in Bangor, Washington, which is close to Bremerton. Kolton is a junior at Clarke Community High School, and Janie Sue is a fifth grader at Clarke. Julie also has a grandson, Matthew Lane.