NOMADS

 

By coincidence the last two books I’ve read are about nomads, or perhaps migrants is a better term.  Jessica Bruder’s 2017 book, Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century, is based on investigative reporting she did over a period of several years.  It is not a novel, so when I heard it was made into a movie I wondered how the story would be portrayed. I have not yet seen the movie though some critics have noted its lack of depth regarding the working conditions in places like Amazon where many of these senior nomads have to continue to search for work far into their 60s and 70s. Having to do short term work at Amazon is not a way I would want to spend my retirement years - the descriptions sound awful really. Now the movie has won an Oscar!

The second book, a novel, was John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath.  Yes I finally got around to reading that great American classic and it left me with the same kind of feelings I got from Bruder’s book.  It would be a feeling of overwhelming despair to have to contemplate the endless struggle to survive on the road, looking for the next opportunity to work and earn enough to eat and pay for gas and the next van repair.  

Steinbeck writes of the effect the Great Depression had on hundreds of thousands of “Okies” - a pejorative term given to the poor who were forced off their land because of the mechanization of agriculture, the economic collapse and the dust bowl. The story tells of the journey to California  of the Joed family, one of the many families of farmers fallen on hard times in the 1930s, and their exhausting search for work to avoid starvation.  

It is interesting that Steinbeck’s book was banned and burned by some county libraries as being too radical.  His views were considered “socialist”, and in some sense I guess they were.  There is plenty of critique in the book about the economic system in which the large landowners and banks always had the upper hand, and where any who protested were labeled agitators and “reds”.  The migrants never come out as winners in this story.  Even a recent reviewer of Grapes of Wrath calls the book propaganda for socialism, though overall the book is seen as a great commentary on that period of American history.

Though some reviewers write of how the Joed family overcomes many setbacks and hardships, and how this shows the triumph of the human spirit to overcome hardships, I came to the weird ending of the book feeling depleted of hope.  It is interesting that in the midst of the depression there was no social safety net until that was created by Roosevelt’s new deal.  That included social security, which, interestingly, most nomads depend on these days.  Pretty good rebuttal to the socialism criticism.  

Bruder began her research at about the same time as foreclosures and vaporized investments of the Great Recession were pushing many seniors to hit the road.  Many elderly Americans were living out of vehicles to save their meager Social Security benefits and performing grueling physical labor to survive.  The typical story is one of barely making ends meet with low paying jobs or social security, so they can’t afford rent, and in some cases they had lost their homes in the recession.  They talked of freedom from debt while at the same time many are living on the edge.

Judy and I have enjoyed camping for many years.  Though we occasionally do cross country trips, we are mostly the kind that goes out for 3 or 4 days to enjoy nature and then return to a nice shower back home.  We have met many “full timers'' over the years, and I always try to imagine how that lifestyle would be.  In fact, this week while camping in the desert in Southern New Mexico we were parked next to a 57 year old single man in a small R-Pad camper. When I struck up a conversation he rushed over to tell me about himself.  He seemed to be starved for conversation.  He stays at each campground for a few days, sets up his I-pod and sits in his camper or on a chair outside for some days watching movies or other entertainment.  He said, “after all, there’s not much to do here”.  His overweight appearance gave me the impression he is not much into hiking.  He doesn’t need to work as he is on Social Security Disability, he said - “a really bad heart”.  I get the impression of a lonely life, though I hesitate to judge from such a short encounter.  

You tube videos abound about the happy life and freedom of the van dwellers, but I have my doubts after reading Nomads. The founder of the movement, Bob Wells, admits to making an enormous amount of money selling the lifestyle on his videos.   The videos talk about their community, albiet a mobile one, but in the final analysis, for me it is the lack of community that would be the hardest part of being a full timer. But the nomads do re encounter each other on the road, and friendships and mutual support happens, according to their testimony.

Today we see migrants by the tens of thousands arriving at our borders.  Like the “Okies” of the 1930s and many of the nomads of contemporary America, theirs is not so much a life they choose as one that was forced on them by circumstances beyond their control. People living on the edge don’t prefer to live in poverty and insecurity.   

What I observed while working with people living at the subsistence level in Latin America is that it is community and coming to rely on one another that ultimately helps people get through hard times.  That is the take away I get from these two books. 

Prompts from Old Songs and Psalms during the Pandemic; #4

                                                   Oh Love, How Deep, How Broad, How High

An unfamiliar hymn, but so complete and full of the life and love of Christ.  It is attributed to Thomas a Kempis in the 1400s intended to be used for meditation leading to a humble and simple life in the Netherlands in the 15th century.  Was it easier to live a simple life back then? 

 I suppose I have sung it sometime in an Episcopal church. It tells of the Trinity.  Schmidt writes, “Boundless, endless, infinite love is too deep, too broad, too high for us to grasp or explain.  The doctrine of the Trinity but dimly hints of it”. 

This Easter morning we listened to Telemann’s Resurrection on NPR, a joy filled and triumphant oratorio from the 1700s.  How wonderful that there are recordings of these classics while choirs are not singing in concert halls or churches.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMgjUwl_Oig

Prompts from Old Songs and Psalms during the Pandemic. #3

 

Beautiful Savior….

This is one I know by heart and love. There isn't a more sublime hymn than this one, especially the St. Olaf choir, singing the F. Melius Christiansen arrangement.  It is a love song to Jesus with great sentiment and passion, the tune and words known and felt - expressing commitment to the Lord.  It should be sung at my funeral perhaps - maybe with a full stream of tears flowing down the cheeks of my beloved family.  

Fair is the sunshine… The sun was not in view when I first went out with Tuppence this morning, but with 3 or 4 inches of new snow it is a fair day.  And now the sky is blue on this April fools day.  I smile as she looks at me with a cocked head from the hallway full of curiosity and wonder.  

I am not in the mood for an April fools prank.  It would not be funny to feign symptoms of COVID-19 and then say “April fool”.  But, horrifyingly, I saw a video of someone coughing on purpose on a store clerk.  It was revolting, not funny. 

Better to turn attention to the sublime.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndUv80ALGps

Prompts from Old Songs and Psalms During the Pandemic - Part Two

 The Church’s One Foundation is Jesus Christ the Lord

By late March many churches are closed!  Correction - the buildings are closed to in-person worship. This is something I have never experienced in my whole life.  We are assured that the Church is more than the building, more than worshipping together on Sunday morning.  But we quickly miss the community - virtual is a poor substitute for in-person worship. And, unheard of - no singing!

Pastors scramble to learn how to lead worship services on-line via face book and videos.  Zoom becomes the mode of communication for churches as well as for a myriad of other purposes.  Most churches have a steep learning curve to figure this out, and I hear that Pastors are exhausted trying to keep up with this new form of ministry. The foundation is solid, but I wonder if the walls will in some sense crumble and the church will come out of this in a different form.  A pastor once told me, the Church is eternal because Christ is eternal.  

I had been asked to give a talk at one of the midweek Lenten services on the theme of my faith walk.  I was prepared for this but now it has been called off.  I was going to talk about my sense of call years ago when Judy and I answered several urgent requests to respond to disasters in Peru and Nicaragua.  

I wonder what I am called to now in this urgent situation - sitting at home.  Maybe a call to kindness, charitable thoughts, donations and prayer.  I don’t feel very significant.  We are keeping in touch with family and friends by phone, emails and zoom.  Called? Making calls….  Wondering.  

I am amazed at how virtual choirs are organized and sing with great harmony and quality. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b22S3GLaxck

Prompts from Old Songs and Psalms during the pandemic. Part One

 

I have kept a journal for many years to record thoughts and meditations as well as mundane and sometimes exceptional happenings of life.  By chance it happened that the pandemic’s beginning coincided with a decision to read and listen to some of the classic old hymns of the Christian tradition.  A wonderful book had been recommended by a friend - “Sing to the Lord An Old Song: Meditations on Classic Hymns”, by Richard H Schmidt.  I don’t journal every day, so those 40 hymns  took several months for me to work through.  I also have used the Psalms for my morning meditation.  There are 150 of those, so it is taking many months to read all these old songs and poems. For this I have gotten a bit of help from C.S. Lewis from his book “Reflections on the Psalms”. 

I use a meditation practice of reading a portion of scripture or song verses slowly, and then reading it again, watching for a phrase or word that the Spirit seems to be speaking to me at the moment.  Then after a few minutes of quiet I scribble some thoughts arising out of the prompting of these readings.  I am posting a few of these prompts.

I will fear no evil, for you are with me…  Ps 23

The World Health Organization declared a pandemic on March 11, 2020!  Things have quickly gotten serious as the Corona virus arrived in Montana and is lurking nearby. Only a few cases in Silver Bow county so far. That won’t last long. The President says it is under control and not to worry - it will disappear like magic. Yet there is fear and anxiety in the country and the daily news is permeated with alarm and even panic.  We can’t fathom why there is a run on toilet paper, but nevertheless go and check our own supply.  

I admit to some anxiety but we are taking the precautions seriously.  Thankfully, I am not in a care center where folks are very vulnerable and large numbers of residents have gotten sick and are dying. It is like a valley of death for many.  Are we to be fearful of this evil that spreads among us?  I ponder the words, For you are with me, Lord.

I was in bad shape a year ago when I underwent a series of abdominal surgeries and spent days intubated in the ICU.  When I hear about people admitted to ICU with COVID 19 and being intubated, I can empathize.  The difference is that I came out of it alive, though drained of strength and stamina.  And I had loved ones by my bedside.  Not so for those with COVID.  I shudder at the idea of repeating that experience alone. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8iIq1eRmY70

Immortal, invisible, God only wise…

We awaken to a bright day.  Nothing to do,  nothing scheduled, nowhere to go.  Today starts a shelter in place order from the governor, which we have been doing already for a week.  I sit and meditate without hurry.  We are safe and  thankful. 

This hymn depicts an act of praise.  The term “numinous” used by Schmidt, refers to a reality of boundless majesty and energy, totally beyond human understanding.  Sometimes while singing hymns I do get that feeling, the experience of the numinous - “the reality of “light inaccessible, hid from our eyes”.  

Yesterday we drove to Thompson Falls to adopt a tiny little puppy, whom we named Tuppence.  I remember when I was in England 50 years ago this little coin was enough to buy a sweet - a piece of candy. I wonder if they still use it - probably of insignificant value now.  Tuppence is tiny and vulnerable; sensitive to new sounds and sights.  She shivers from the cold and from the strangeness of her situation as we take her from her mother.  Judy puts her under her coat and she settles in for the ride home.  This must be a “numinous” experience for her, beyond understanding.  We hear that many dogs are being adopted as people stay home; perhaps looking for sources of comfort and companionship.  

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=immortal%2c+invisible%2c+god+only+wise

T

Three Leaf Clover

 

For reasons we can’t remember, we have in our files a manuscript with this title.  Perhaps it was given to us by Marion Voxland when she was cleaning out the Voxland files before her move to Bismarck.  It is a compilation of stories about the family of Dr. Just Christian Gronvold, the house he built and the lives of the family of his nine children.  The house was situated next door to the parsonage of Holden Lutheran Church in rural Goodhue County Minnesota.   

This family saga was published as a series in Norwegian in the Decorah Posten between April and July, 1943.  What we have is the English translation done by Marie Voxland.  In her notes Marie says that the author, Emma Quie Bonhus and her brother Albert, were also fictionalized characters in the story. Albert was the father of a former governor of Minnesota, Al Quie.

Judy and I have read this whole manuscript, 79 pages single spaced and no formatting, so it was a bit hard to follow, and frankly, not well written; and some may have been lost in the translation.  But we found it of interest because of its’ historical content. 

Dr. Gronvold was a prominent pioneer doctor who immigrated from Norway and came to Goodhue County in 1869.[i]  Thus, he would have been well known to my great grand-parents, Nels and Martha Aaker. My grandparents, Olaf and Ellen Aaker, would have been contemporaries of the older children in this story; and even my parents may have known some of the children.  In 1873 Gronvold built a beautiful large house where the nine children featured in the story grew up.  Many descriptions of the house are included.  The “three clovers” are the clusters of three older children, three middle, and the three youngest children.  The name of the doctor in the story is Dr. Justin, which was Gronvold’s first name and an old family name.  The names of the children are not their true names, though Marie Voxland thought these could have been their second names.  In fact, she seems to have known them in person and notes that one of the younger daughter’s name was Thora, and that “I went to parochial school for her”.

The time period of the beginning of the story is the late 19^th century when this country doctor was seeing patients in his home office and doing house calls by horse drawn buggy and sleigh in the area. He died in the line of duty, having contracted pneumonia while out calling on patients in inclement weather and his wife died just two months after his death.

The untimely deaths of the parents left the nine children, the oldest just in their teens, to fend for themselves.  Many of the stories have to do with how each of the older girls took responsibility for managing the house and raising the younger children, especially the oldest two, whose real names were Marie and Anna.  As they grew up some of the children went to Kenyon High School and on to St Olaf academy and college, and others to the Twin Cities to study medicine and others professions.  Eventually they scattered far and wide to Washington D.C., Virginia and Seattle while others lived in the Twin Cities.  One son traveled to Alaska and they lost contact with him.  This son, Hjalmer in the story, didn’t like schooling, but was a hard worker and adventurer. He wanted to see the world and went North following the gold rush.   

Two of the girls (the oldest and the youngest) never married and continued to return to the house (called “The Magnet” in the story) every summer, often joined by several other siblings. 

I vaguely remember my parents commenting on the “old maids” that came to stay in the house during the summer.  Later I recall seeing the ruins of that mansion in the trees until Lloyd Voxland bought the property and tore it down to build a new and beautiful modern home where he and Gerry retired. 

According to the Goodhue County Historical Society article footnoted below, Dr and Mrs. Gronvold are buried in the Cemetery of Emmanuel Lutheran Church.  That is a church in the Hauge tradition, which may be why they were buried there rather in the nearby Holden Lutheran Church. The story tells something of the family’s participation in church activities, confirmations and Bible studies at the Holden parsonage next door, and that the oldest daughter was organist for a time.  Several of the children and spouses are said in the story to be “resting in the nearby cemetery”.  Which church’s cemetery?

In the Norwegian American Historical Association posting about this manuscript there is mention of “A six-page manuscript "Notes on the Gronvold ‘farm' and members of the family" by Voxland "based on notes from Harriet Voxland" gives additional information”. That would be an interesting read, and could probably be found at the NAHA archives.

The story also mentions a Gronvold Family Saga, a history of the family going back to Norway and their immigration to America, but NAHA does not list this, (at least in my cursory review).

I am wondering if the Holden Church archives have any documents and stories about Dr Gronvold and his relationship with Rev. Muus and the church.  I recall something about this relationship in the book Brent Julius Muus, by Joseph Shaw.  I think it was about Dr. Gronvold tending to Mrs. Muus when she broke her leg, and the doctor admonishing Muus to treat his wife better.  I think the relationship between Gronvold and Muus may have been a bit frosty. 

Though this “book” was not a page turner, I found myself drawn into the story, especially the last part, to see how all the children turned out.  It is a story of how it was, as in so many rural families; the Gronvold children persevered in the face of adversity and try to keep their memories alive as they treasure their roots in the rural setting of their youth while they all eventually go off, near and far, to much different lives of their own. 

Jerry Aaker

January, 2021

 

 

---

[i] From a 2017 article by Afton Esson, posted by the Goodhue County Historical Society, we found dates relating to the life of Dr. Gronvold. He was born in Norway in 1833, immigrated to America in 1865, and after medical school in St Louis, he came to Goodhue County in 1869.  He built the house in 1873 and married Eli Brandt in 1874.  He died in September 1895 at the age of 62 and his wife died just two months later. Thus, they were married only 22 years and were survived by nine of their eleven children. Dr Gronvold had a particular interest in the study of leprosy as he had found a number of cases of this disease among Norwegian settlers in Goodhue County.  

My Brother Vern

 

 

I’ve been thinking about words to describe my brother and honor him on his 87^th birthday.  Norwegian/American might do as a starter.  We have had quite different lives, but we did descend from the same gene pool that came from rural Norway to rural Minnesota in the 1840s; 100% Norse we think, until proven that we aren’t quite that pure.  

LaVerne Donald Aaker was born December 31, 1933; the darkest time of the year and during the depression, one of the darkest times of the 20th century. Mom was at the Aaker farm where grandparents Olaf and Ella lived.  Everybody went to a New Year’s Eve gathering at Roy Voxlands, (can you imagine that rip roaring party? – coffee and cake at 10 o’clock).  Hilda stayed home with mom and helped to deliver the baby before mid-night. Probably boiled the water! The doctor told dad to hang a lantern on the mailbox so he would know where to turn in on the dark snowy nigh.  He was brought home later in a basket.   Anyway, that’s the story we heard from Hilda.

Yes, nights were dark on the farm during the years of his childhood.  He did chores and homework by the light of lanterns and candles, really until well into his teens.  The great depression years were hard times, but our parents were not depressed in spirit – they had hard work to do to save enough to buy the 100-acre farm and raise a family.  Vern found himself at an early age carrying his part of the load.  Besides the Norse blood line, it was culture and surroundings that had the biggest sway; parents that taught hard work, faith and frugality by example.  Long days – up early to help milk the cows and feed the pigs, and into the evening to feed the calves and throw down hay for the cows to chew on during the night.  Sundays were exempt from work; always observing a day of rest on the Sabaoth. (except for chores, of course).

At age six he was off to Dovre, the one room country school about a mile from the farm, to learn reading, writing, arithmetic, geography and Minnesota history.  We walked across the fields often facing cold winds blowing from the North.  All eight grades were taught by one teacher. Vern’s class had four students I think, including cousin Bob Aaker.

 In those times the school year was shorter than the full nine months of these days.   Farmers needed help for spring work and harvesting in the fall.

 LaVerne was a good student in grade school and also at Kenyon High though I haven’t run across any of his report cards.  I just know he was a better student then me and was a role model for me to try to do better. In high school he tried out for football, and not knowing what to say when Coach Fredrickson asked what position he wanted to play; coach said, “Vern you’re going to be a quarterback”.  We can see the family in 1949 in the picture below. The 16-year-old looks strong and broad shouldered – maybe

Vern, dad, mom,
Jerry, Lois,
 Jean

a result of conditioning for football, but more likely because of hard work on the farm.

He also worked in the “pea pack”, a job that built up his muscles even more. When we “wrestled” on the living room floor or in the hay mow, he could easily pin me, all in fun.   

In about 1950 he made an adventurous trip with Bob and Harris Hostager in a 1932 Chevrolet - all the way to Seattle to attend a Luther League convention.  I remember the parents of the three worrying and wondering if they would get over the big mountains in Montana.  Not that they had ever seen mountains themselves.  After a record number of flat tires, they returned home safely and probably made a report to the congregation.  Those youth conventions were often “mountain top” experiences and changed lives.  Harris went on to become a Lutheran minister, maybe in part because of that convention experience.  Did Vern ever contemplate that calling?

 He decided to go to Luther College at the nudging of Uncle Maynard, so after graduation from High School in 1952 he was off to Decorah.  I don’t know much about those two years at Luther except that he met a farm girl by name of Donna Hatlestad from LeRoy, Minnesota who was studying to be an elementary teacher.  At some point he brought her home to meet the family – an indication that this was really getting serious.   

Sister Jean remembers it like this:

 

“When Vern went to college, I went to 1st grade.  No kindergarten at Dovre. So, my memories of Vern are not on the farm but more when he was in high school and beyond.  If he wouldn't have ventured off to Luther, where might we have gone to college?  I'm certainly glad he followed Maynard's nudging.

 

I remember Donna coming to visit but can't exactly recall the first time. But I do remember when she started teaching in Kenyon.

 

I was always so clueless but very interested when my 5th grade teacher and the 2nd grade teacher named Ms. Hatlestad moved next door to Grandma and Grandpa's at Berdella Ness' s house in Kenyon.   At that time teachers were encouraged to visit homes and mom invited those two out for supper.  I was thrilled and loved it.  I remember them trying to explain day light savings time to me.... I wouldn't accept that you could just change time so easily”. 

 

 Lois adds this memory of that time:

‘I remember when Vern brought Donna home and that was the first time a girl friend had ever been brought to our house.  I’m sure I gawked at her.  I think I stood behind the stove in the kitchen (do you remember how we used to do that?) and listened to the conversation but probably didn't participate in any of it.  It was probably nerve wracking for Verne but I think they were already pretty serious before he brought her home.”

Donna's memory of first meeting the family. 

It was in August between my freshman and sophomore year at college.  I was working in Rochester that summer and Verne came and brought me to visit.  Your mom was working and I only remember Lois and Kathy were there.  Lois had made brownies but had used salt instead of sugar which embarrassed her.  Your mom had bulk salt for pickles so it was an easy mistake.  I must have stayed for supper but don’t remember it.  As for one word to describe Verne, that’s hard.  But loving stands out for me. 

Judy’s reminiscence:

“I met Vern’s family in June, 1963 when Jerry brought me to the farm.  We went swimming in a lake near Faribault and I remember thinking ‘these Aaker men sure are handsome’. My words to describe Vern are understanding and easy to be around”

In 1955, after two years at Luther, Vern enlisted in the United States Army.  So why would he interrupt his college education and leave his sweetheart behind for two years? 

                                                                            I think in those years young men felt

they might eventually be drafted anyway, so why not go ahead and enlist and come out with the advantages of the GI Bill to help pay for college. 

He did a tour of duty in Japan and from what I understand he had a pretty cushy job – with his own jeep and driver, in fact.  He looked at Japan as a positive experience, and indeed came out of the service with government aid to help finish his college education, this time at St. Olaf College. Again, I followed his lead and went into the Army right out of high school. And, of course, I went to Luther College as well!

Donna and Vern were married in May, 1957 and I was there, standing by his side.  In February, 1958 their first child, Cindy Marie, arrived to live with them in student housing in Northfield. He graduated from St. Olaf that Spring and got a job in the county welfare office in Rochester.

They bought their first house for a price of what we pay for a car these days. Dad thought it was pretty neat that he had a job with a pay check every month – of course, interested to know how much that was. 

I remember driving with Vern and Donna to Omaha to help with their move to that city where he studied and earned an MSW from the University of Nebraska in 1964. 

 

Following the Biblical injunction, Donna and Vern were fruitful and multiplied!  We see here the growing family in 1969, from which have sprung many grandchildren and now great grandchildren. It has been as a brother, son, husband, father, and grandfather that he has lived out the values he inherited from home, church and family in that rural community so many years ago. 

And these same ideals served him well in a long career of service to community and people in need through social work, his chosen profession.

But this is not intended to be a career resume nor a family tree for I would certainly leave too many gaps.  Rather I return to the question, “what words can we use to characterize this man?”  I start with those that I and many others have observed. These relate to his chosen life work:

To do good social work one must have the capacity for empathy and good relationships, and it certainly helps to have compassion and be a good listener.  These are not only professional qualities but personal values that were lived out in Vern’s interactions with all who have been close to and experienced knowing Vern.

I would call him a quiet man, modest and thoughtful. He is not one to interrupt others in conversation when he can’t get a word in edgewise as his family happily chats around him while he listens.  Hearing and sight have diminished a bit with age, but we know he is musing about the important things in life – especially the gift of a long life and a wonderful family. 

Adjectives like these and others were recurring themes when I asked his children, sisters and Judy for words that come to mind when thinking of Vern.  Several said understanding and respectful, and the word kind got the most votes.  Others mentioned were wise and a positive role model. 

I agree. Someone once taught me the importance of putting the best construction on the actions and words of the neighbor, based on several of the commandments – i.e., do not bear false witness, covet, or steal.  This is an outlook that leads to a positive attitude toward life, self and other people. I thought than and still think, “well that’s my brother”.  He refrains from saying negative things about others and avoids gossip and criticism. 

Karen summed it up well writing, “I’ll say devoted.  He’s devoted to God, devoted to Donna and devoted to our family”.  Cindy chose genuine and Mark said patience.  What a wonderful affirmation for a parent to receive from their children. 

They bought and fixed up a cabin on Lake Eunice soon after they moved to Fargo.  The best investment they ever made. Everyone in the family has fond memories of summers at the lake.

Below we see two old geezers standing on the lake shore in the summer of 2018.

Ie 

I write this during the last week of what most consider a very dark year – 2020, the year of the pandemic. This year we all have experienced separation and isolation, anxiety and concern, lest we become infected with the Corona Virus. So, Vern and Donna have been “hunkered down”, yet they delight in the loving attention given them by their children, grandchildren, and siblings, and especially the joy of seeing the next generation of babies appearing on the scene.

 

Happy 87^th birthday, Vern.

 

 

Jerry, December 31, 2020