After some of her nieces and nephews visited her in August 1997 to celebrate her 80th birthday, Bernice promised to sit down and record some of her life’s memories. Here is a transcript of that recording.

Bernice Smith Reminisces

August 1997

Today is August 17, 1997. Last week, on the 8th of August, my nieces and nephews came to help me celebrate my 80th birthday, which had been the 1st of August. John [Windh] requested that I should take time to put on tape what I remember having happened and also what I remember having been told. I had had this request several years before from my granddaughter, Stacy.

Going back, Dad was a Norwegian, born to farmers in Norway. His family had lived between Bergen and Stavanger on the west coast by a fjord. He was the youngest of a family, I don’t even know how many there were. We had the privilege of seeing that spot in 1983 and it was a beautiful place. When he was 19, there was man who had been his teacher back in elementary school and had come to America sometime prior and encouraged dad to come. In fact, I think he had probably sent him the ticket. So at the age of 19, having been born in 1872 [other records say Feb. 2, 1873], he left Norway in 1891 and he never was able to return. This M. O. Wee, who had sent him the ticket, was part of the Wee name which has become important with the Lutheran church working out of Minneapolis. But as far as dad having more contacts with him, I have no idea. Of course we realize that back in that era they didn’t have the phones and the faxes and all the goodies that we have in 1997.

Dad told about coming in and seeing the Statue of Liberty and the thrill of seeing it and, later, how happy he was on getting his citizenship. His first job was in a lumber camp in Wisconsin. How he got there from the east coast I have no idea. Anyhow, I remember him telling of the rough life there and of the dangers of working with a lot of people older than he. He’d tell how the logs would sometimes get jammed going down the river and how they’d have to get out there with their sticks and get them straightened out, heading the right way again. The other thing he mentioned was on Saturday night everybody went into town, and when the saloons closed he’d have to go gather them up, drag them to the wagon, and get them back to camp again.

Then there’s a lapse of time in my story. There are so many things I would ask my dad if I could. Some years later he mentioned that he had taken two gals to the Chicago World’s fair and said that one of them later was my mother. How he got from Wisconsin to the Morris area of Illinois, where mother grew up, I have no idea.

While they lived in Illinois [he moved there from Wisconsin about 1897 and married Bessie Torkelson on Dec. 23, 1897] the four older children were born, unable to speak anything but Norwegian at the time that they started school. They were Gertrude, Russell, Gladys and Mabel.

It seems that many Norwegians who lived in this area of Illinois all came to South Dakota at the same time [about 1911]. I recall being told that the Knudsens [Bernice’s oldest sister, Gertrude, married George Knudsen] had come earlier, and everything came by railroad to the town of Hankinson, North Dakota. So until dad’s personal belongings got here, dad and mother and their four kids lived with the Knudsens. Dad and mother homesteaded on a farm four miles northeast of New Effington, South Dakota. [Others have said they bought an existing farm.]

This is where Jerry and I were born, Jerry in 1914 and I in 1917. I’m told that when mother went into labor with me, Mabel, who was then ten, was sent to get dad, who was out harvesting. He farmed the quarter he homesteaded and another quarter they rented. She got dad to come home, and it looked like the doctor was not going to get there in time. So Mollie Okerlund, who was an R.N. and working at a naval training station in World War I, happened to be home on vacation and she lived a half mile away. So somebody went and got her and she came and delivered me. The thing about this is that ten years later she became my stepmother.

Once Jerry and I were outside sliding down a stack of corn bundles and I broke my collarbone. I remember mother was wiping up the floor on her hands and knees with her skirt stuck in her at-that-time so-called bloomers, which was kind of comical to me. They had a phone, so she called Dad, who was in doing shopping for the week, and he brought the doctor out with him. I laid on the bed and he set my collarbone and put my arm in a sling and that was it. It happened to be my right one so that maybe is the reason I find some things I do left-handed that I didn’t realize.

Mother died when she was 46 and I was 7. I regret that I don’t remember more or have even been able to learn a great deal about her, except that she was patient and helping. I was in school and I remember mother was sick for some time. I don’t know how long she was actually bedridden but it couldn’t have been really long because I had already started school at the time.

On March 19, 1927, Dad and Mollie were married. Jerry and I at that time were the only ones at home.

As recreation in our youth, I remember our farm home was on a hill, and I had a wagon and a sled This was the main thing we had for entertainment. The hill at that time seemed pretty big, but going back there after I’d married and left the area and the folks had moved into New Effington, why the hill didn’t look as big as when I’d slid down it or carried two pails of milk back up it.

Another thing I recall from Jerry’s and my fun days, we had a dog called Pal. One nice hot day, Jerry and I thought Pal would appreciate a nice bath. So we encouraged Pal to come down to the stock tank, picked her up and threw her in. After that she would never come to the tank again but would sit up at the top of the hill and bark at us, but that was it. We also made a doghouse, but it took so long to build it that by the time we got the house done the dog could no longer get in it. But it made a wonderful chicken coop for a mother hen and her 15 little chicks.

I attended country school about a mile around the road. We usually walked, summer or winter, as long as we could. If not, those who lived anywhere close would come along and we’d share rides. When Dad and mother moved to this place there were four family farms on that section, which would have been a mile square. Three of them happened to be Norwegians or Swedes, so we kept in contact with them. The other family were German and Catholic, so we grew up not knowing anything about them except that they attended the same rural school. What a shame.

After grade school I attended high school in New Effington, and stayed with my sister Mabel and Art. Upon graduating, I attended Northern [State Teachers College in Aberdeen, SD]. This is the time, one Saturday, when Gladys and her husband Sven and Dorothy and John lived in Groton, and Gladys knew what a sweet tooth I had. One day her husband’s nephew, Lloyd Windh, who was the best friend of Orval Smith, was coming to Aberdeen. So Gladys wondered if they would bring me a box of cookies. I’m sure the box had caramel rolls, cake and cookies, and all. That was how I met Orval. From then on we kept in contact.

He would come up whenever he could. I remember one date; it was the night of a football game but I stayed home because he was coming, but he never showed up. He did come some time later and said it was starting to storm that night and the sheep had bunched up in the far corner of the pasture or something. I thought, “Boy, what a story, couldn’t he think of a better one than that?” But after marrying him some two years later I found that sheep did do those things. I never told him, I think, that I didn’t believe him.

During the two years that followed I went back to the Effington area and taught school. I bought a Model-A Ford from Hulda and Agnes Knudsen, who had been my teacher at one time and also relatives through marriage. I drove to school as long as weather and the roads would let me, and after that I would stay with the George Thorsens, who lived right across the road. She babied me something terrible; she didn’t think I ate enough. She’d make fresh lefse for me all the time; I always have been very fond of that.

In September of 1939, on September 5th, Orval and I were married in Breckenridge, Minnesota, by the pastor I had had for confirmation, Rev. James Falck. We moved to the farm where Orval had spent most of his life. Leo and Maisie, Orval’s dad and mom, had earlier moved to a bigger house over on Hiway 37, and we thought maybe we could live together. But thankfully Maisie said there’s no house big enough for two families. So Lilian and Louise Nouse and Maisie and I worked to paper and paint the smaller house and get it all ready.

At our wedding in Breckenridge we had one attendant. We came back to Mabel and Art’s house and spent a little while there. As we left, Mabel went to grab some rice but she threw navy beans at us instead! When we reached home we found a loaf of Maisie’s wonderful homemade whole wheat bread. So the first morning, which was September 6th, we began our life breaking bread together. We had no money.

Life was hard and everyone worked hard back then. The house left much to be desired, as I look back, but it was filled with love and things went well.

The 13th of July, 1941, Keith was born. I was not to move for ten days, but Mollie, who was then my stepmother, we always called her Mollie, she was happy to come out and help me take care of this 7-pound 10-ounce healthy boy. I remember the first bath I gave him on my own in July; I’m sure I had the room probably 100 degrees. I was worn out by the time it was over, but I found out that babies are huskier and more durable than I thought they were at that time.

On June 21, 1944, we got a beautiful little 6-pound 13-ounce girl [Diane]. There again Molly came to help me. This time I only stayed in the hospital six days.

On July 22, 1945, two months premature, we had a little baby boy. The valve in his heart never closed, he lived just a few hours. He was baptized John Luther.

On November 11, 1947, our son Curtis was born, weighing 8 pounds and healthy and a joy to join our family.

On February 22, 1954, Cheryl was born, weighing 6 pounds 7 ounces.

My dad passed away in 1958 and Molly in 1964.

During the years which followed, of course the kids attended country school first and then high school in Groton. Both boys went on to SDSU at Brookings.

Orval was an only child, the only living child, he had three baby sisters who had died at birth. I can’t begin to tell you how good Maisie and Leo always were.

We sold the farm, it must have been in 1958, to Norm Thurston [the closest neighbor immediately west] and left it because we had no kids interested in farming. We bought a home in Groton and Orval worked for Ackerman Welding Supply in Aberdeen [which was owned by Diane’s father-in-law]. Curt and Cheryl were still in elementary school at that time. Diane was married [in 1960] and Keith was working. At that time I helped operate Circle Pines Motel for friends of ours and later worked at Volks Drug Store [both in Groton].

In March of 1966 we bought Tri-State Welding Supply [in Watertown]. In August of 1966 Maisie passed away and Orval’s dad, Leo, came to make his home with us. We were living in Groton at that time. In 1968 we decided that we should be living and operating our business, Tri-State Welding Supply, in Watertown, from the center of the area it served. So we bought a home there in January of 1968 and in April we moved Leo down there because he wanted to put in some garden. On Memorial Day weekend Orval and I joined him. This is where we have lived ever since, in this home where I am sitting.

I had never done book work, but a friend who worked at Ackerman Welding said he would be happy to set up a set of books that a CPA would approve, so that was what we did.

Leo was a wonderful person in our home. Cheryl, who was in junior high at the time we came here and later high school, her friends would come over here because they would be babysitting their siblings or something and Leo’s record around town was that he made the best chocolate chip cookies. Of course his reason for that was everything is good if you use lots of butter and lots of love.

Leo’s health finally got to the point where we could not keep him home any more, so in 1977 he went to the nursing home, first in Milbank. He came home for about six months from there for he was not doing very well and was hospitalized here. Then he went to the Memorial Nursing Home. Leo passed away in the home in 1980.

This is also the year that we retired and sold Tri-State Welding to Roger Jones [Diane’s second husband], and worked there with him during the period of changeover.

In 1981 we made our first trip to Texas. I had never thought we would leave South Dakota winter or summer, but it sounded like a good idea. We had bought a used Pace-Arrow motor home, so we left here when it was 20 below on the first of February, planning to arrive in Dallas, where Diane was living, by her dad’s birthday, which was February 7th.

Orval and Roger Jones continued to do the work at Tri-State. As the company grew we rented more people to help. Then Diane and Roger were divorced, and Diane moved to Dallas.

In September of 1983, Curt, Cookie, Orval and I went to Europe for 23 days. This was really a highlight for me for I had known none of my dad’s family. We flew to Oslo’s Gardemon Airport, where my niece [Linda], Jerry’s daughter, who had grown up in Lisbon, North Dakota and had attended the University of Oslo, met us, introduced us to her husband Tom and son Dag, and showed us all around Oslo for the first two-three days. With our 21-day Eurail passes we left Oslo and went across to Bergen. There we rented a car which Curt drove out to this little town of Etne where dad had lived. We had to cross the fjord on four ferries or it would have taken us forever to get around there.

I had a second cousin living not too far from there so we were privileged to meet George, better known as Jorg, 92 years old, and his wife. That was a highlight of our trip. He looked more like dad than either of dad’s sons did. His English was good and we had a delightful day with him. I got a hug when I left, and he assured me we would meet again.

During the years of our married life, after our family was grown, we loved to hunt and fish. We had a boat and we used to spend much time on weekends out at Oahe Reservoir [on the Missouri River in central South Dakota].

On February 21, 1985, in McAllen, Texas, Orval suffered a severe stroke. Diane and Curt came immediately and would spend nights with Orval in the hospital while I spent the days. On March 1st we air-ambulanced him to Dallas, Texas, where Diane lived and also Cheryl at that time. We did not return to South Dakota until July 13, when he was still right down in a hospital bed, unable to stand. Keith was working here in town at that time. We brought him home. Doug Kluck came as his therapist, and I give him credit for the extra years we spent thereafter.

We spent one year at home, more or less. Orval was very paralyzed. His left arm never regained any strength, but got to where he could walk with a walker and then short distances with a cane. We had thought we would have to live here from then on, but we were nonetheless able to return to McAllen and to friends we had gotten acquainted with after a one year’s lapse of time here.

I had help at home during the day. Keith and I would take care of Orval during the night. I think back on giving him showers in the bath, and setting him on an itty-bitty shower bench and I’d get behind him and Keith in front and we’d slide him in the bathtub. In fact, I got to be a pretty fair therapist to the point where I had all kinds of ideas of how people should do this, but maybe not too logical.

Anyhow, we returned to McAllen [in 1986]. By now we had a car to tow behind the motor home. The first year Keith drove the motor home down and came back to get us in the spring. The next year Gary [Monson]. my nephew, drove us down and Keith came to get us. Then we were able to buy a mobile home down there, so I have been driving back and forth by car. I had no fear. Traveling was difficult, as I reflect on it. I never thought about it at the time, getting Orval in and out of motels and restaurants. I had him here and the time was good.

In September of 1989, Orval and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. Our four kids were all home; not all our in-laws and grandkids were able to attend but it was a great day. At that time Orval was able to walk short distances with a cane. I must tell you that although his body was very paralyzed, his mind had remained good. It was always a joy to have him near at hand to discuss things and plan our days together.

It was surely a blessing that we were able to go back to Texas and get out of the snow and ice because Orval was just petrified to try and walk outdoors under those conditions. Some of our closest friends are people we met down there, all in the same situation with time on their hands and a similar lifestyle. It’s been good to be back down there since Orval’s death. I stayed home one year [in 1995] but I have returned down there [in 1996] and intend to again.

Going back a few years, in 1994, on February 21st, the same day that Orval had been first hospitalized with a stroke [in 1985], Orval was once again hospitalized in McAllen, Texas, with the aftermath of the flu which had gone into pneumonia. At that time his kidneys began to shut off for him and cause problems. During this time he had also become diabetic; he tried to get along with oral medication but finally had to go to insulin. This actually didn’t create any big problem once I got used to it.

On March 1st Orval seemed to be getting weaker and not gaining, so I decided with Cheryl’s encouragement to take advantage of the insurance I had which would pay for our trip back to Watertown. On March 1st, 1994, we air-ambulanced back to Watertown, where Orval was admitted to Prairie Lakes Hospital. From there he was sent to the nursing home and back to the hospital several times. His kidneys refused to work.

At that time Keith was home and Curt came, and it seemed like dad was losing ground. So we decided to bring him home to see if tender loving care was what he needed. Cheryl lived in Lubbock, Texas, at that time, and had Nathaniel and Rebecca, and was going to school. Her instructors said they would play ball so she wouldn’t lose her time there. So she came home and spent six weeks with me. The doctor wouldn’t let Orval go home without an abdominal feeding tube, so we had to wait until that got properly adjusted to see how much he could tolerate. Then he came home and we had a hospital bed installed here in the house. The feeding tube worked out fine, it wasn’t that difficult a thing.

It seemed that getting home was such a lift to him ; he remarked as we left the hospital that he didn’t think he’d ever be doing that. It wasn’t long and we would bring him to the table when we ate, and pretty soon he would begin to eat a little bit. It wasn’t too long until he was eating enough so he didn’t need the feeding tube. However the doctor refused to remove it because he figured, like so many times prior, for a while he would eat and then he wouldn’t again; he felt that the tube would help him. We would have trouble getting Orval out of bed and into a wheelchair, but as time went on things went better. Cheryl was home for Mothers Day that year but left the following day because she had employment she had to go to. It wasn’t long until I got so I could get him out of bed and into the chair and to the kitchen.

That September [1994] we were invited to Chippewa Falls to friends. They had left McAllen. I asked Orval if he would want to go; I didn’t really expect him to feel up to it. But he was in the mood so we packed up and went to Chippewa in September. That November we once again returned to McAllen, Texas, for a last “plus” year down there together.

In July of 1995 we had decided it was time to have a family reunion and try to get everybody together. So on July 16, 1995, all the immediate family was home. At that time Orval was in Prairie Lakes but was feeling well so the family all enjoyed their time with him because there was nothing to distract them. They could go up one or two at a time. It was a special time for all of us. On Sunday, the 16th, they let him come home long enough to have dinner with us.

Then the family returned to their homes, and Orval went back to the hospital. But in a matter of a few days he came back home but his kidneys did not want to work. So on the 28th of July I took him to McKennan in Sioux Falls to have the dialysis shunt put in. On August 1st it was put in, and that was also the day I got a phone call telling me I’d had a fire in my home, but I’ll not go into the details of all that.

The doctor had said it would be just a matter of a few days and he would be back, but it just seemed he was getting weaker and weaker. So on August 11, 1995, he came back by ambulance and went directly to the Jenkins Home. For a while he seemed to be getting better, and he never complained about taking dialysis. They would take him in their vehicle from the home; they could put his wheelchair right in it and take him out to dialysis. Three times a week he’d be gone from the home for at least four hours. He never did complain about anything. But it just never did the trick.

He was back to McKennan to have his shunt cleaned out twice. Finally they replaced it with a new one. The 27th of November he had an appointment with his dialysis doctor, who wanted to ask him if he wanted dialysis discontinued. At this point it had become a matter of life support. That morning he passed away.

This was a Monday morning. Diane and Michelle had flown to Minneapolis and were met there by Kristi. They had gotten in on Sunday when Orval remained very weak but conscious. Kristi and Marv and their five kids were there also there that day. Marv stayed with me Saturday night. On Sunday night Diane did. Reliving all this I find that tears still flow. He fell asleep very peacefully with me by his side. We could not ask him back. I feel so lonely without him.

But life goes on. So I continue to live in the home where we lived all those years together. I have always enjoyed out-of-doors work and I still like volunteer work and spending my time with the flowers in the yard. I am so thankful, I have truly been blessed with four healthy, intelligent kids, very loving and caring. And I plan again to return to Texas again this year. I’m considering flying, as my family has encouraged me to do. I’ve made no definite plans as of now.

Our oldest, Keith, as of now is a pastor at Revillo, SD. He came there a year ago. So now I have him within 35 miles of Watertown. He surely is a blessing to me, and I’m sure the family are happy to know he is that close.

Diane and her husband Dave live in Dallas. Diane has three daughters—Kristi, Michelle and Stacy. Michelle and Stacy live in Dallas also. Kristi, her husband Marv, and five of my great grandkids live within 26 miles of here and they’ve always been a true joy.

Curt and Cookie live in Denver. Curt worked at a civil service job for some years in Chicago, then requested a transfer to Denver, which he received in November of 1977. They have made their home in Denver ever since.

Cheryl has a son Derek by her first marriage. He’s now 21 and in Floyda (?), Colorado. She and Lee had Nathaniel and Rebecca, who are now 15 and 12. They’re wonderful wonderful people. I have four kids, six grandkids, and five great-grandkids, as of now.

Family and friends have been so supportive, loving and caring. The true strength comes from our Lord who walks with me every day, picks me up when I stumble. Life goes on. I’m sorry for the tears and all I might have forgotten. But here’s a beginning to fulfill my promise. I hope it will have some meaning for you. Thank you and God bless.


(Later . . .)

I just listened to this tape. As a postscript, I just had my 80th birthday and I want to warn anybody who’s approaching that that they better plan ahead because I’ve now celebrated for two weeks. Yesterday friends from Groton were here. As far as I know, that will be the end of it. I had a wonderful time with immediate family plus family and friends, and everybody has made it such a great thing. I have 42 birthday cards to look at before putting them away. I’m so thankful for every one of you. I’d be happy to answer other questions. I’m sure there are things I’ve forgotten that you’ve wondered about. I’d be most happy to answer them if you can. Nice visiting with you. Till we meet again.

[Later . . . Side II of the tape]

It is now 4:00 p.m. on August 24th, 1997. I’ve been thinking, since I taped the other side, that it was mostly about my early remembrance of my dad and my early life, and then on with my family. So I decided since I had half a tape left that I would take time to tell you a little of what I remember about each one of my sisters and brothers.

[When I was young], of course, none of them were home, with the exception of Jerry and then Gladys for some time when she stayed home and took care of us after mother’s death.

My first memory of Gert was when George was coming to see her. I take it that there were wedding plans then a-brewing. I remember dad and Gert and George and sometimes Jerry and I would get to sit on the lawn and talk a little about things. I recall how pretty I thought Gert looked in her wedding gown and veil. At that time I got to be flower girl. I recall I had a little pink dress. I think I threw peony blossoms.

The next recollection I have is how Gert and George were building a new house. Every so often dad would say, come evening when his work was done, let’s go up and check and see how the house is coming. It was exciting. It had a full basement, and these holes in the walls with all these wires sticking out. And I had to ask what that was for. At that time they didn’t have electricity but they were looking forward to some time down the line of getting it, and so they were ready. Gert, being a lot older than I, I got to go up there and help her during harvest when she had little children.

Harvest was much different at that time than it is in this day of 1997 because for one thing all your power was by horsepower. When the crops were ripe the farmer would take his binder, which would cut the grain and tie it with twine in bundles. It had a carrier which would hold maybe three or four bundles. My dad’s would dump them in a pile and when the field was done a man would come along and shock it. This was a matter of taking a number of bundles together and shaping them with the heads up so they would shed water as much as possible. Some man in the area usually had a threshing machine. The men would get together at somebody’s place and discuss who was going to be first and how much it was going to cost.

At this time a threshing machine was a great big machine that had a big long spout on it where the straw came out, and another spout with a drain that put the wheat into a tight wagon for transporting to the granary. The group of men that had hay racks would go out and throw these bundles on till they had a load. Then they’d pull in alongside the conveyer belt and throw their bundles in the machine and the process would be completed.

Dad normally took care of the grain. I know he would follow this wagon of wheat up to the granary. There he would have an elevator set up to a hole in the roof of the granary with a spout that turned from one bin to another. It had a hopper on the end; it was driven by a gas engine, as I recall. Very carefully the grain would run out of the wagon into the hopper and be conveyed up to the roof where it was dropped into the bin where it was to be. Now this required a lot of men and a lot of work.

As far as Gert is concerned, the group that worked up there had both forenoon and afternoon lunch, which meant there was a lot of baking to be done and churning, and everything that went with it back at that time.

I ‘m not going to tell any stories about my nieces and nephews nor my kids, at least I don’t intend to at this point, but it was good for me to have spent this time with Gert because now was the time I learned to fold diapers and put them on. Being the youngest I had had no experience. And back at that time you didn’t go around and have babysitters. Mom and dad were usually the babysitter. In later years I think back, Orval and I and the kids never really felt we were a bother to stop at Gert and George’s because we were always welcome to share whatever they had planned. I learned a lot about raising a family as well as how to cook and bake and get everything together and done on time. It was really great, as far as that was concerned. My time there was very worthwhile.

One other thing, the first radio I ever heard was up at Gert and George’s. Back then it was a battery portable with headphones. I remember how we practically fought over turns to listen. Lots of times it would squeal and howl. Occasionally you’d hear a little music or someone talking. Even at that, to think that there was really music in the air was really exciting. The first radio I remember at home, we did have electricity when I was little and we finally got an electric radio. I know that dad always sat in his wooden rocker by the radio and listened to the news. This phase of our lifestyle has definitely been changed, and you can’t imagine how it was back then.

The next one in line was Russ. He too was gone at the time I’m remembering. I do recall him coming home being very sick as a young man. He had smallpox, I do believe. At that time those of us who had not been inoculated got a shot for it. I have a scar that I carry on my right arm because of the time I was recovering from a broken collarbone and my right arm was useless anyway. None of the rest of us got it, and he recovered and went to work in New Effington.

At that time he and Gunvor were going together. I can’t tell you the year any of these people were married. I remember them living in an upstairs apartment over perhaps the drug store for a short time before they moved to Lisbon, North Dakota, where he was with the International Harvester Company. I spent a week up there one summer, perhaps more. Next door to where they lived was the man who owned the Chevrolet garage. One of the highlights of the trip was when this boy about my age talked his dad and his older brother into taking us around Lisbon so we could have a ride in the rumble seat. I don’t remember having a ride in a rumble seat other than that time.

Then one night Russ had to deliver a part for a cream separator some distance out in the country. Gunvor and he and I went, and we came to the Cheyenne and there was no bridge. He got out, took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his pants and walked across to see what our chances were of getting across. They seemed good, and so he got back in. I have no idea what kind of a car he was driving, but we forded the creek, the Cheyenne River. On the other side we stopped, and he took out his snow-white hankie and wiped off his legs and feet, and put his socks and shoes back on again.

Any time you were in Russ’s company you were going to be entertained. I think this carried through all his life. He was a good person and had a wonderful relation with everyone he worked with. Even as an older person attending family reunions, it seemed there was never a dull moment when Russ was there. After we had Keith and Diane we went to Jamestown and visited them one time. I know Russ made the remark it was so nice we had come up so we had time to get together and get acquainted. I think I lost a lot by not having known my family better than that.

The next in line was Gladys. Gladys happened to be the age so she was the one who ended up at home to help mother at the time she was sick. After her death, Gladys also stayed home and kept house for dad and Jerry and myself. I remember dad buying her a piano because he felt she had been cheated out of the education the older ones in the family had had. I would talk her into going in to play the piano while I volunteered to do the supper dishes. I’m sure I was probably 7 or 8 at the time, and the dishes were still fun. At the time dad remarried, Gladys went to work in New Effington and also in Rosholt.

After she and Sven were married, they lived in Groton. And when Orval and I were married we farmed nine miles north of Groton. So the relationship between us and our families continued. I think back of all the Sunday dinners when she would say, “I put a casserole in the oven, wouldn’t you like to stay for dinner?” It didn’t matter whether we had one or four kids. We spent lots of Sundays together.

That was also true of holidays. We changed off every other Christmas eve at one house or the other. The first Christmas eve we were at their house. This was prior to our having [electric] light. I think I maybe told you earlier how I came home and stepped “crunch crunch” on our Christmas decorations as our cat had had a hilarious Christmas eve while we were gone. Her relationship grew and it was through her and Sven and Sven’s nephews, who brought the goodies up to Aberdeen when I was going to Northern, that I met Orval.

We kept in close contact. We normally went to church on Sunday and saw them at least once a week and perhaps several times in between. I know I went in to get John, and Gladys was going to go to a Sunday School convention. He was like three, or maybe even less. I went in that night because I had worked with Gladys and Sven for some time and thought I was pretty well acquainted with Dorothy and John. I recall when he was a little reluctant to go. Sven got down on his haunches and asked, “Well you like Auntie Bernice, don’t you?” And he said, “Well, sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. Tonight I don’t.” So we went home without him; I went down the next morning to get him, and he was all rarin’ to come at that point. I really spent more time with Gladys and family than with any of the rest of the family.

To move on to Mabel, I remember at the time mother was sick Mabel was already going to Northern in Aberdeen or teaching, I’m not sure which. She used to send her clothes home to be laundered in a kind of a canvas bag with some straps on it. I recall how Jerry and I would go down to get the mail, particularly if we thought it might come, because usually there was some little thing in there for the two of us. So we would stop halfway between the mailbox and the house to check it out before coming up.

At the time of mother’s death, Mabel was home. They didn’t wake Jerry or me that night. I remember her coming up and telling me that mother would never be sick again. She did such a wonderful presentation of the joy of knowing that mother would be in heaven. And so it seemed like our contact from then on was very spiritual, between Mabel and I. There were very few things we didn’t discuss . . what we believed, how we felt, we asked us to console one another, and prayed together over problems that we had.

After the later years I got to see more of her and I got to realize that my marriage put 80 miles between me and Gert, Dad and Mollie and Mabel because we were north of Groton, and Gert and George lived within three or three and a half miles of where I grew up. Mabel and Art, after they were married, lived and worked in New Effington. I stayed with Mabel and Art and went to high school. I’m sure those were very formative years. I was a member of the LDR, the Lutheran Daughters of the Reformation, and attended church in town about as much as I did out at my home church during that period of my life. I recall Pastor Haugen, who was there at that time. Each month we had two meetings, one for Bible study and memorization of Bible verses and the other one an activity meeting. I recall that Pastor Haugen said that prayer was the opposite of fear, just as day was the opposite of night.

During the years when miles separated us, we got together a few times per year in person and also wrote letters and, when phone service got better, occasionally telephoned. Early on, phones were so terrible that you never called unless it was an emergency, and even then the telephone operator probably had to repeat because you couldn’t hear that well.

At the time Mabel took sick, the first I realized she had cancer was August 22nd, 1988. She had a biopsy but didn’t know for certain on the 22nd. But when I got the message I took off and went to New Effington from Watertown and I was expecting to find her feeling bad. I have really have known better. When I got up there, there she was hanging out her curtains from her front hall and looking just like it was just another day in the life of Mabel Monson, with nothing to be concerned about. In the fall we had been going to Texas, and I said to Mabel that I not going to go this year. She said, “Oh I think you ought to go.” “No,” I said, “I’m not going.” “Well,” she said, “after Thanksgiving you can probably leave.”

She spent one week in the hospital in Wheaton, and two weeks in the nursing home in Browns Valley. During that time Orval and I went and saw her a lot. One day I was there and she was getting thinner and weaker but very conscious and very alert. She said goodbye to Orval and then said it was time to get back into bed. I said I’d call the nurse. I can see her smile yet when she said, “Oh you can put me back to bed.” So I did. Just a few days later she passed away. Gary and I were there with her when she peacefully slept.

Now I’m down to Jerry. He was the one closest to my age, and he was home more than any of the rest of them as far as my youthful years together. We had a lot of fun going up and down the hill on our sleds and on our wagons. I know during the summer dad’s noon recreation was laying down in the shade of the big tree on the east side of the house and having Jerry and I wrestle. Of course Dad always cheered for me because I was a lot smaller but a little quicker than Jerry, and we had a lot of fun together.

I remember one time when the hired man we had, I think it was George Torkelson, who would have been a cousin of mine who was there working, he was going to give Jerry and me a haircut. I guess I sat pretty still because I just got mine cut nice. At that time I had very blond hair; the neighbor used to pat me on the head and tell me it was just like silk. Jerry must have goofed around a bit because he ended up with a “mohawk.” But he had a beautiful head of heavy hair and it wasn’t long till it grew back out again. But I recall it looked pretty funny for a while.

During this year I ended up getting a terrible case of red measles. Mollie wouldn’t let us get anywhere close to one another because it was harvest and dad needed Jerry to help. I got so weak that Mollie gave me a glass and a spoon so I could call her. Even with her sterilizing everything that went from my room to wherever the family was, Jerry still ended up getting measles but not as severe a case as I had.

We were never in high school together, with four years separating us. I remember how the older ones in the family had friends come to the house to spend evenings and sometimes Sundays together. Jerry and I’d get sent up to bed. I had a register where the heat from the hard-coal heater would rise up into my bedroom. We would open that register no matter what time of the summer or winter it was, and we would lay on our stomachs and look down at the young people to see what they were doing down below. Once someone asked Gladys if she could play “Yearning Just For You” (which came out “Jurning Just For Jew”) and we both got so giggly we were afraid we were going to get caught, but with the noise downstairs it never happened.

Jerry graduated from high school and went to work at Lisbon. I don’t know if Russ was still in Lisbon at that time. Russ bought into International [Harvestor] with Johnson from Jamestown, and he and Gunvor moved there. I know Phyllis was born in Jamestown but I don’t know about Bob. Anyway, Jerry left the area. I always looked forward to getting together with him, though it was not as much as I would have liked at that time. It was usually at holidays.

He and Betty lived in Lisbon, North Dakota, and we used to spend Easter with them, and usually they tried to come either to Gladys’ or our place for Thanksgiving. But the miles separated us and we weren’t together nearly as much as I would have liked.

It seems I’ve always longed to know a little more about mother. I do know I was very spoiled. I think of how people used to come there to enjoy young people’s company. Russ’s wife’s name was Gunvor, and she had an older brother by the name of Ray. I don’t think he ever came but he didn’t bring me something. In fact, to this day I still have in my possession, or have given to my kids, keepsakes . . . a little pair of kid gloves that I must have had when I was three or four, a set of hand-painted dishes . . . so we were pretty popular in those days. Over the years since I’ve grown up one loses contact, and I have no idea whatever happened to Ray.

I am sure there were many insights that I could add to each one of these. I remember learning how to play tennis from Sven and Gladys, and how much fun we had doing this together. It didn’t matter if we had a tennis court or not, we could always improvise something. In Groton we did have tennis courts, and whenever Gladys was free we’d try to get together to play a little tennis. After Orval and I were married we belonged to a whist club with Gladys and Sven. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for me. One year when we were planning on going to the Black Hills, I realized I was pregnant with Cheryl. It looked like if we didn’t go then we wouldn’t get away. Orval had to get some straw bales before we could go, and I had two or three baskets of sweet pickles in the making. Gladys said, “You’re not staying home to make pickles. I’ll take care of your pickles for you.” There was nothing she wouldn’t do.

Well, it’s been a nice visit. The memories have brought back a few tears. I guess you all know I’m a pretty emotional person. I love you all, whoever happens to be listening. You’ve been very special to me. I can’t think of anyone I haven’t enjoyed knowing. I have enjoyed and still do appreciate these many years of living. Life goes on. In the context of how good everything has been. I guess I’ll end our little visit for today. I’m sure there are many things I haven’t touched on, not because I have been reluctant to tell you anything but just that I have neglected to think of them. So if there are any questions feel free. Thank you and good afternoon.


(Revised August 1998)

* * * * *

from Bernice’s obituary

Bernice A. Smith, age 94, passed away on Monday, April 2, 2012, at her daughter's residence in Poncha Springs, CO.

She was the widow of Orval W. Smith.

Funeral services will be at 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday, April 10, 2012, at Lutheran Church of Our Redeemer in Watertown, SD. Rev. Bob Hanson and Rev. Christina Matson will officiate.

Music will be provided by A.J. Sherrill as organist with Robbyn Givens as soloist.

Burial will take place at 2:30 p.m. at the Groton Union Cemetery in Groton, SD.

Pallbearers will be: Marvin Singrey, Van Singrey, Nathan Singrey, Erik Staebell, Nathaniel Voss and Rick Smith.


Visitation will be on Tuesday prior to services at the church. Arrangements are being handled by Crawford Funeral Chapel in Watertown.

Bernice was born on August 1, 1917, at New Effington, SD, to John and Bessie (Torkelson) Melland. She attended elementary school in Lien Township and graduated from New Effington High School. Following graduation, Bernice went on to Northern State Teachers' College in Aberdeen, SD. She taught school for two years.

On September 5, 1939, Bernice married Orval Smith at Breckenridge, MN. The couple farmed north of Groton for 22 years and later moved into Groton and lived there for five years. Orval and Bernice eventually moved to Watertown in 1967. She owned and kept records for the family welding supply business. Orval passed away in November of 1995.

She was an active member of Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Groton and Lutheran Church of Our Redeemer in Watertown.

Bernice enjoyed visiting with people, traveling, playing cards, fishing and gardening. She especially enjoyed all of the Norwegian specialties and was an avid Minnesota Twins fan.

Bernice is survived by her four children: Keith Smith of Revillo, SD, Diane (Dave) Sallee of Richardson, TX, Curtis (Linda "Cookie") Smith of Littleton, CO, and Cheryl (Jim) Frank of Poncha Springs, CO; seven grandchildren; eleven great-grandchildren; and five great-great-grandchildren.

She was preceded in death by her husband, an infant son, her parents, three brothers, and three sisters.
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