So what did we do in our 50s?

Instead of a one-year Christmas letter, I thought I would give you a recap of the past 10 years – sort of a take-off of the “decade-challenge” on social media where someone posts a photo of themselves in 2009 beside a current photo.

Our family 10 years ago

Let’s start with family. Ten years ago, we were a “sandwich” family…meaning that we had three generations living under one roof. There was my dad, who was about 90, Belinda and I just turning into our 50s, and our sons who were both in college. There wasn’t a lot of extra money hanging around after you get done paying for two college tuitions, helping with books and also car expenses. At the time, we owned four cars – a Buick Park Avenue (that was limping along) a Buick Century, which I bought from dad, a Dodge Neon, which Derek drove, and a Chevy Sunbird, which Scott drove.

Our family grew during the decade. Derek proposed to Camila in the summer of 2011, and they were married in January 2012. Scott proposed to Taylor on her birthday (May 31, 2013) in Aurora, Colorado, and they were married in June 2014. So far, we have two grandchildren – Henry and Luka. So we gained two daughters and two grandsons in 10 years. However, we lost Grandpa in July 2014, after having him live with us for eight years. While Grandpa stayed with us, we also had two different cats that were his constant companions. Nibby was his first kitty and when he died, we got Picasso. It wasn’t long after Grandpa’s passing that Picasso died as well. Still, all of this menagerie was part of the family.

During the decade, Derek graduated from Minot State and then went to work for the college as a recruiter. Later, he left that position and took another as a sales representative for Blue Cross Blue Shield of North Dakota. His undergraduate degree is in broadcasting, and his graduate degree is in business management. Camila has two undergraduate degrees and a master’s as well. She now works in the human resources department of the city of Minot.

In the meantime, Scott was getting his degrees from the University of Mary. His undergraduate degree is in athletic training and his advanced degree is in occupational therapy. He works for Sanford in Bismarck as an occupational therapist. Over the past decade he also worked as a jobs coach for H.I.T, as an in-studio cameraman for KFYR-TV and as a substitute teacher for Mandan Public Schools. Taylor has a civil engineering degree from North Dakota State University and works for several North Dakota distribution electric cooperatives.

Belinda and I are much less interesting. Through the decade, she has worked as a part-time church secretary and I have been gainfully employed as the vice president of communications for the Lignite Energy Council.

Our family in November 2019

Over the course of the decade, the boys graduated and we got to keep a little more money from our paychecks, and both Belinda and I got a few raises here and there so it seemed like we had more resources than we ever thought we would. While we squirreled some away for retirement, we also went on a few trips – including three to Brazil, where Camila’s family lives (2013, 2015 and 2018) and also to Hawaii (2011, 2016 and 2019). We also went to Orlando and Tampa, Florida, and also to Phoenix for the same reasons – to see spring training games and visit relatives. 

One year, we also went to New York City and saw three Broadway plays and the New York Yankees play the Baltimore Orioles in Yankee Stadium. There were other trips as well – to Colorado, Idaho, Minnesota, Montana, etc. Chances are, if you are reading this blog, you saw us in person over the last 10 years.

There have been some challenges. There was the flood of 2011 that wiped out Derek’s apartment in Minot. Belinda and I have also had some health issues that we have dealt with. My heart went out of rhythm in 2011 and in 2019. It’s still out of rhythm and probably always will be, due to a blood clot in the upper chamber of my heart.

We also did some property improvements. Everything from new windows and appliances – three new computers – to buying the city park beside us and building a deck and a gazebo.

Besides my dad, we also said goodbye to several aunts and uncles – and two brothers-in-law – Dave Laudenschlager and Ed Iverson. I sang in a men’s quartet, joined some worthwhile organizations, competed in speech competitions, served as chair of a preschool and just generally kept busy.

We continue to enjoy the Saturday morning breakfasts with Belinda’s uncles. We are fans of the Medora Musical and go there several times every summer. We like to see movies and have probably spent about $10,000 in the past 10 years at Red Lobster.

So from the time I turned 50 to 60, it was a decade of change. The cars changed, the family grew and my hair went from black to salt and pepper. Most of it was fun. And I wouldn’t trade my life for any other. I love my job, my friends and family and the things I do for recreation. So here’s to a new decade and more adventures.

A peek into the future of my grandchildren’s world

I grew up with the internal combustion engine. When I learned to drive in high school, the price of a gallon of gasoline was 70 cents. Now that I’m nearing my 60^th birthday, the price is $2.10 a gallon. I’ve seen it as high as $4.00 a gallon but that was before horizontal drilling and the exploitation of the Bakken Shale in western North Dakota.

To say I’m satisfied with the status quo would be an understatement. I normally drive a 2006 Dodge Neon that has been described by my brother-in-law as “old fashioned.” It has power steering, a radio and an automatic transmission so it seems modern enough for me. Also, I really only drive it to work and back or the occasional trip to the grocery store.

So when I was told last Friday that I would be driving a 2018 all-electric Tesla Model X for a week, I felt a few jitters run up my spine, but then I thought, “Hey, you’ve driven an electric car before….yeah, a golf cart…many times.”

Well, the Tesla is a little more sophisticated – and bigger – than a golf cart. There’s a little fellow under the hood named “Otto.” His last name is “Pilot.” And he can drive the car all by himself on the interstate from Bismarck to Mandan.

He’s a little too “swervy” for my nerves. It puts me in mind of the way a sitting car on an Amtrak will sway when you are riding the rails. But I had to try it.

There are lots of things to try on the Tesla. I downloaded an app to my phone that allows me to warm up the interior of the car while I’m still inside the office working. The app also tells me how much juice the car is using while warming up the interior of the car. Since North Dakota is right now in the middle of a cold snap, I can’t decide what feature I like most…the one that warms up the car or the one that shows how much electricity is being consumed.

If this was spring or fall, the car could probably make it about 300 miles between charges, but since its winter, heating up the interior is certainly decreasing the miles it can travel.

Right now, the car is plugged into a charging station at work, so I’m not too worried about the electric load. If I were at home, I’d be a little more worried, but I still know that electricity is a good bargain in North Dakota – partly because about 70 percent of it comes from North Dakota-mined lignite coal. Lignite is an affordable fuel. That’s why we have seven lignite-based power plants that generate approximately 4,000 megawatts…or enough power for more than 2 million homes.

My employer, the Lignite Energy Council, is leasing the Tesla for the next three years and allowing its employees to try it out and see if personal ownership of an all-electric vehicle would be right for them.

Well, for me, the Tesla – or another brand of an all-electric car -- would be a perfect second car as I only use my Neon for short trips. The Tesla specifically worked great in the cold weather and handled well in the challenging road conditions. Of course, we northerners know that the secret to getting around in the winter is our tires, and the Tesla has new tires with plenty of tread. The Tesla also has lots of power and accelerates well.

Yesterday, we took the Tesla to church and as we were talking with another couple, the husband asked, “Who makes the Tesla?”

I replied that the car company is called Tesla. This was hard for him to comprehend because almost every car in the church parking lot is made by either Chevrolet or Ford. So driving an all-electric vehicle takes a little getting used to…but the for the people who like to try new things, I think the Tesla will be just fine.

In the future when our grandchildren are adults, who knows, maybe they’ll be wondering what a Chevrolet and a Ford were. People of my generation might be seeing the future before our eyes and we could be the last to recognize it.

GPS

We were at a rural Catholic church for Uncle Johnny’s funeral. As was the custom, several of the retired priests who had served the parish were invited back for the service. One of them was thumbing his way through a little prayer book. First he went to the right, then he went to the left…all the while my 90-year-old dad sitting beside me was losing his patience. After drumming his hands on the back of the pew, he blurted out, “He can’t find it, he can’t find it.”

Dad was just about to get up and leave the church when I grabbed him by his belt loop and pulled him back down. At last, the priest stopped and read something. Whatever it was, it was anticlimactic following dad’s pronouncement of the obvious. It would have meant more if the priest had closed the book and ad-libbed a prayer.

Over the years, I’ve lost plenty of things…gloves and hats mostly. I always make sure to have some spare items hanging around just in case. I doubt that anyone cares if I’m wearing a brown pair of gloves this morning, only to lose them at lunch and replace them with a black pair in the evening.

But the one thing that we never want to lose is our way. With GPS, it’s easier to find what we are looking for even in a strange town or country. The GPS on my phone works just as well in Brazil as it does in Minnesota. In both places, I can see lakes on my phone that I don’t even see from my car.

But how about when it comes to our career or our family life…a GPS won’t help us there. Or will it? Normally GPS stands for Global Positioning System…but what if it also stood for Glittering Precious Sapphires?

Let me explain. In the 1860s when the southerners and the northerners were engaged in a great Civil War, prospectors were finding gold in the Rocky Mountains of present day Montana. First came the discovery of gold near Bannack, then came gold around Virginia City. The third major find was near present day Helena, the Montana state capitol. The prospectors called it Last Chance Gulch…having already missed out on the two earlier bonanzas. Of course, not all the prospectors got rich at Last Chance Gulch. Some arrived too late, and so they began their journey back to civilization.

However, that didn’t mean they couldn’t continue to look for gold as they retreated out of the Rockies. That’s what happened to a group who traveled east near present-day Lewistown. They panned for gold in the creeks but didn’t find any flecks or nuggets. What they did find were blue pebbles, but they weren’t looking for blue pebbles. They were looking for gold. Then in the 1890s, a cattle rancher collected some pebbles thinking they might be sapphires and sent them to be assayed. Eventually, they made their way to Tiffany’s in New York City where they were proclaimed to be the most precious gem ever discovered in Montana. This is no small feat considering that Montana is known as the Treasure State and Butte is home to the richest hill on earth.

The mining of the precious Yogo sapphires ensued and jewelers considered anything less than a Yogo sapphire to be inferior.

As we journey through life looking for that one perfect nugget, or – in the case of the priest -- a favorite prayer that’s been recited at previous funerals, maybe we should broaden our vision and scope out other precious gems.

When I graduated from college, my goal in life was to be a sports reporter with my heart set on covering the New York Yankees, still my favorite baseball team. I was a sports reporter in high school. But after college, I found more value in using my talents as a communicator in public relations, first for a telephone cooperative in Glendive, Montana, and later for a regional utility in Bismarck, North Dakota. For the last 16 years, I’ve been promoting North Dakota’s lignite coal industry to a variety of audiences.

Had I stuck to my original dream, I might have been like the prospectors who walked away from a stream full of crystal blue sapphires. Instead, I’ve enjoyed a rich career. My hobby remains the New York Yankees. I’ve seen them play at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx and at Steinbrenner Field in Tampa. But my vocation is to promote home-grown energy in North Dakota. My career in public relations has helped me purchase my house, feed my family, send my boys to college and support the occasional vacation to Brazil and Hawaii.

So don’t overlook the sapphires while searching for the gold. And for goodness sake, don’t fumble through the prayer book looking for something that would mean more if it came from the heart and not someone else’s pen. There are glittering precious sapphires…if we will only choose to look.  

Who wants to be a Brazilianaire?

Last spring, I competed in a speech contest at the district convention in Rapid City. One of the other contestants told about her adventures as she swam in the Amazon in Brazil…with piranhas, mind you.

That caught my attention because my wife Belinda and I have been to Brazil three times in the last six years and never have we even seen the Amazon let alone swim in it. But we have our own adventures. Most of them have dealt with two things we hold most dear – food and money.

So let me tell you about our adventures and they occur in three different places – the megacity of Sao Paulo, the small city of Bebadouro and the beaches along the Atlantic Ocean.

The reason we fly 4000 miles to Sao Paulo is that’s the home town of our daughter-in-law Camila. It’s a city of about 25 million people to 30 million people – second only to Mexico City as the largest city in the western hemisphere. As the late Anthony Bourdain said, “It’s so large it makes LA look like Hooterville.”

Now imagine if you will a Sunday morning street fair in Sao Paulo. There are fruit and fish vendors lined up for miles along a thoroughfare. As we get out of the car and walk toward the crowds, my son – who is married to Camila – feels it necessary to tell me, “And whatever else you do here today, don’t get lost in the crowd.”

Well, imagine my surprise when I’m hanging out with my gang of about 12 people at the street fair only to turn around and find them all gone. They have vanished. All I see is a sea of people and what’s worse is they all look the same. They all have brown skin and black hair. I can’t use my cell phone because it doesn’t work in Brazil.

I don’t know if I should move and start looking for them, or should I stay put until someone notices that I’m gone and comes back to find me.

Alas, I see Camila’s sister – or at least someone who looks like her sister – but, sadly, no. It’s just another of a thousand people at the street fair who looks exactly like my Brazilian relatives. At last, I find my wife. She’s ordering something from one of the vendors. So I walk over with happy elation written all over my face. Then I come upon my son who scolds me for getting lost.

“You are a known flight risk,” he says. “Stay with the group.”

Belinda is ordering homemade candy. And they are making it in front of our eyes. They have a hot iron skillet that they fill with tapioca flour and fry it over a blue propane flame. They flip it and then pour sweetened condensed milk on it, fold it over, take it out of the pan and hand it to Belinda. It’s simple to make and tastes like you are eating a Mounds candy bar.

We love it so much that Belinda buys a small bag of the white tapioca flour. The vendor tells us that once the bag is opened, it needs to be eaten at once or it will spoil…thus the small bag.

Well, this is perfect. We look forward to taking our bag of tapioca flour back to North Dakota and making our own homemade candy, until we get to the airport in Sao Paulo. A bag of tapioca flour looks a lot like a bag of cocaine to airport security personnel. So after having our luggage x-rayed, opened and examined, the tapioca flour passes the smell test and we are allowed to keep it with us.

My second story about food occurs in Bebedouro, a city about the size of Bismarck. Camila’s grandfather and a couple of uncles live here. After Sao Paulo, Bebedouro seems like Mayberry. Everyone is friendly and in the center of town is a park. It is at the park that we come upon hot dog vendors.

Now, we are no stranger to hot dogs. We’ve eaten hot dogs in every major league baseball park and a few minor league parks. We’ve also eaten them in New York City where they are affectionately known as dirty water dogs. So no, it’s best not to invest too much time into the integrity of the sausage. Simply close your eyes and bite down on them.

But the Brazilian hot dog is a different breed altogether. While American dogs are generally dyed red, the Brazilian dogs are orange….no, not just orange, sort of a florescent orange….like the color of the vests worn by hunters in North Dakota.

So here’s a street vendor selling orange hot dogs. But instead of the normal condiments like ketchup and mustard, the Brazilians are used to eating their hot dogs smothered with cooked green peas and mashed potatoes.

Okay, here’s where I draw the line. First, I’m not sure if I could even eat an orange hot dog, but I’m sure that I can’t eat one covered in green peas. So while the rest of the brave people downed a hot dog, I waited for our next stop – the ice cream shop. Only to my dismay, the flavors of the ice cream are also like the hot dogs. Anyone eat ice cream that tastes like sweet corn before? You can in Bebedouro. I stuck with more familiar flavors – chocolate smothered with the ubiquitous sweetened condensed milk.

My third stop on this journey is a beach – this particular beach doesn’t need a name because they are all over the place a hundred miles or so east of Sao Paulo. Some are coves, some are jetties, some are white sand and some are rocky. But they have a few things in common – they are full of people and they have young men who wait on your every need.

It's best to get there early so you can pick out the best spot, which is in front of the food and beverage cabana. Here you want someone who speaks Portuguese to set up a tab for you and your group. If they know you are American, you’ll probably end up paying too much. But if your name is Claudiney or Guilherme, they’ll treat you right.

So at the end of the day after devouring high octane sodas, mixed drinks over the rocks and a host of foods on a stick, it’s time to pay the bill. Generally, our little group averages about eight to 10 of us. The Brazilian dollar is known as real (pronounced HAY-eye). For every American dollar, you can get somewhere between three and four reals. So it’s a good thing to be an American.

Rather than splitting up the bill eight ways, the young men who have kept our drinks fresh and fried our food on a stick to perfection, would just as soon that one person pay the bill in full and leave them a tip. This is where Belinda comes in. She hands them a credit card. Any translation is done by our daughter-in-law who speaks fluent English and Portuguese. In an instant, the bill is paid and our credit card shows that we paid one-fourth of what the bill actually was.

Because of the amazing exchange rate, we are what is known as Brazilianaires…just average run of the mill Americans who can pay a fraction of what someone from Brazil would pay. It’s a great system…for us and our relatives.

But the real cherry on top is that the vendors like the arrangement so much that they are more than happy to give Belinda a free drink…the proverbial one for the road. It’s a concoction of fresh fruit, ice, wine and the ever present sweetened condensed milk.

So while we haven’t swam with piranhas, we have had our share of Brazilian adventures. Hopefully, next year, we can add to the list.

Lessons we learned from Grandpa

The phrase “teachable moment” comes to mind, but can an elderly man with Alzheimer’s really teach his children and grandchildren? That’s the question we’ll explore today.

Willis came to live with us in 2006 upon the death of his wife. He brought with him his clothes, his cat and the start of dementia…something that would slowly progress over the remaining eight years of his life.

Grandpa with his grandsons Scott and Derek in 2011. 

Despite his disease, the World War II veteran could still light up the room and his love for his family knew no bounds. He went by different names. To me he was dad but to our sons, he was Grandpa. 

He taught us that you are never too old to help someone. It was a cold winter’s afternoon and after eating a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup for lunch, he dressed warm and went for his daily two-block walk. Even though he had Alzheimer’s, we never worried about him wandering off. He had made this trek so many times, he could do it without much thought. And our neighbors along the two block walk always kept an eye out for Grandpa.

On this particular day, we were surprised when he brought back an elderly gal with him. She was our neighbor – Maggie. She didn’t have her teeth in and she wasn’t wearing a coat. Maggie also suffered from dementia. So once she got in our house and warmed up, she told us that she had gone outside for a minute and locked herself out of her home. Our hero came to her rescue and brought her to our house. Since we knew Maggie’s daughter, we called her and she came over to unlock the door…only to find that the door wasn’t locked in the first place.

Thus is the life of living with people who suffer from memory loss. But as Maggie bundled up in a coat to leave our house with her daughter, Grandpa made one of his pronouncements that will stand the test of time, “Women have a harder time growing old than men do.”

Seriously, I thought. Both of you have Alzheimer’s. Both of you require children to survive, but dad spoke so eloquently, it just seemed like the words should be carved in stone. But I think what he really meant was, you are never too old to help someone in need, and in this case he did.

A second lesson he taught us – you don’t need to know their names to be proud of your family. As dad approached his 90^th birthday, the only person whose name he could remember was his grandson’s Scott. All the rest of us were something else. I was forever introduced to him as “this is my son.” My wife was the “woman in the kitchen.” This phrase was only necessary when the woman in the kitchen wasn’t in the kitchen about 15 minutes before Grandpa expected to eat….which was 7 a.m., noon and 6 p.m.

He would walk by the kitchen and if it was empty, he would ask whoever was around, “Where’s the woman in the kitchen?” Meals were important to dad, but so was family. He might not know your name, but he knew if you were a relative. If he did, he would say, “you belong to me.”

That was high praise from someone who couldn’t remember what he ate for breakfast, but he could remember that someone passing through town from Idaho to Maine “belonged to me.”

The third thing dad taught us was that an honest answer could also be mistaken as a person with an amazing wit.

If you didn’t know he had Alzheimer’s, and a lot of people didn’t, he could fool you easy enough. He was generally quiet, but he would say just enough to make an impact. For instance, one night we were attending a dinner and dad was introduced to the evening speaker. The guest of honor asked dad, “What did you do before you retired?”

Without a pause, dad said, “It’s been so long ago, I forgot.” The whole room erupted in laughter.  What a clever response, they thought. But if the truth was known, he had answered the question truthfully. The ever-present twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face made the audience believe that he was being clever.

Of course, he had forgotten that he was a coal miner, a rough neck and a pipeliner. He retired from Conoco in 1985…which was before either of our sons were born.

That was our life with dad. He was a pleasure to be around. He was always a gentlemen, he loved his family and he could light up a room with a smile and an answer that would delight us all. And he taught us that you are never too old to help, that family is your best friend and a well-spoken person is always a gem. 

The odd parallels between Belinda and Rosaline

If someone else noticed the weird coincidences between Belinda and her mother Rosaline, they never explained them to me.

But I certainly discovered them when reading Rosaline’s 1957 and 1958 diaries. I didn’t have to read Belinda’s diaries from 1986 and 1987 because I lived them.

Leo and Rosaline's wedding photo from June 1956.

In June 1956, Rosaline married Leo, who lived and worked in Glendive. So after their wedding Rosaline moved from her family’s farm near Mandan to a different state and to a city where she didn’t know anyone except her husband…or did she?

Why of course she did. Three of her dad’s sisters lived in Glendive. There was Aunt Rose Sterhan, Aunt Mary Pfau and, the youngest, Aunt Kathryn Rust.

There was also Leo’s sister Pat (Perpetua) and her husband Ray Hegel.

So in 1958 when Rosaline – who was the oldest child – had Belinda – also an oldest child – there was a built-in support system to ask questions, find a quick babysitter, etc.

Now jump ahead to 1985 when Belinda married me. Only this time Belinda moved from Glendive to Mandan…basically the opposite of her mother.  And in 1988 when Belinda had her oldest child, all of her questions could be answered by her grandmother. In fact, I think Grandma Frohlich took quite a bit of pleasure in being there for Belinda. It sort of made up for having her daughter move away nearly 30 years ago.

Belinda and my wedding photo from October 1985.

And it wasn’t like Belinda didn’t know anyone in Mandan. While Rosaline had three of her dad’s sisters, Belinda had four of her mom’s brothers – Johnny, Philip, Clifford and Herbie. She also had Rosaline’s mom. Grandma became a suitable substitute for Rosaline for Belinda. After all, they had more similarities than differences.

But if that wasn’t enough, there were also several of Leo’s sisters including Belinda’s Godmother, Clara Wetsch. Besides Aunt Clara, there was also Aunt Barbara and Aunt Alice.

Except for Philip, the rest had gotten married and had children, so Belinda also had lots of cousins…as did Rosaline in Glendive back in the 1950s.

So when Rosaline got married and was just starting to create a new life and depended on the friendship and generosity of her relatives, it was an easy story to understand because we had done the same things.

In fact when we moved to Mandan after Christmas in 1985, it was Philip, Clifford and Herbie who came over to help Leo and I unpack the U-haul during the coldest day of the winter.

Over the years, Rosaline came to rely on her aunts – especially Aunt Katy. Rosaline still sees her cousins Linda (Aunt Katy’s daughter) and Jeannette (Aunt Mary’s daughter).

In Mandan, we have had breakfast with Belinda’s uncles on Saturdays for probably 15 years or more. We also are friends with all of her cousins and see them at least once a year – at the Frohlich reunion.

So if you hear someone say that history repeats itself, indeed it does. And it’s much easier to understand how the previous generation survived when you see the same circumstances surround you as well. 

Brothers and sisters

I saw something on Facebook today that sparked my creativity. It was a “test” called sibling wars and it wanted to know who of my siblings was smartest, most stubborn, most creative, etc. So rather than starting a war, I thought I would simply write a blog about my siblings. Each one of us has our own personality, strengths and weaknesses, but I love them all equally and feel so lucky to call them  family.

I’m the baby – at 58 – that means my oldest brother is now 69. His name is Gene. His full name is Willis Eugene and he was named for dad and one of my mom’s relatives. However, he’s always been Gene to me. When I was growing up in Roundup, Gene was always in a band. In high school, it was called the “Dictions.” Many people who were the age of my parents loved to go to dances and so I became known as “Gene’s brother.” My dad was known as “Gene’s dad.” I don’t think any of us minded because we were proud of Gene and his musical talents. I have many fond memories of my oldest brother. He took me fishing when I was little and I liked being included in his activities. I always thought he was very handsome, so I considered it a compliment when people told me that I looked like my oldest brother.

My sister Janet is 10 years older than me. She lived in Rapid City most of her adult life. Since I lived in places like Baker, Glendive and Mandan,  I generally lived closer to her than any of her other siblings. She was always like a second mother to me.  After raising her children she worked as a librarian in the Rapid City school system, which allowed her enough time to correspond with me daily through e-mails. Now that’s she retired, she seems to be too busy…ha ha. But I still appreciate the time we spend writing e-mails back and forth to each other. A couple of years ago, we were lucky enough to take a Hawaiian cruise together. Janet is not the traveler that we are; however, I’m so grateful that she and her husband Ed went with us. We have memories and photos of an unforgettable week in paradise.

My next sibling is my brother Randy. He was probably the most athletic of all my siblings. I remember that he was a pretty good pole-vaulter when he was growing up. Both of my brothers are also very mechanically inclined and I am not. Randy and I have had some memorable experiences together. In the winter of 1980, he moved in with me in my small apartment in Beach, ND, and we worked together at the Golden Valley News. I was a reporter and Randy helped with commercial printing and in the darkroom. He was actually a welder but had hurt himself so was looking for a different job as he was healing. There was no doubt that Randy was good looking and fun loving. The girls in Beach and Wibaux seemed to swarm around him. I knew that things had gone too far when most of the people thought that I was actually older than him. Obviously, he was “younger at heart” than his younger brother who was more studious and career-oriented. However, we have some great memories from our short time of batching together.

Closest in age is my sister Susan. Randy graduated from high school in 1971 and Susan in 1973, so there were a couple of years where Sue simply “ruled the roost.” She was very pretty in high school and married a local school teacher, who was very handsome. Over the years, Susan has been very close to us…all though she has lived the farthest away in miles. When my dad lived with us, we could always count on Susan and her husband Rich to help us out when we needed to be away from home, such as going to Brazil for Derek and Camila’s second wedding. Also they helped us out with dad when Derek and Camila had their first wedding.  Susan, like Janet, is another that likes to email regularly so we know what’s going on with each other…no matter how mundane.

So it’s hard to say who’s the cutest, who’s the smartest, who’s the most stubborn, who has the best hair…we all brought our strengths and weaknesses to the family party. So my final thought is this…our parents were equally proud of each of us. In many ways, we reflected their values of hard work and success, which is the legacy that they left each of us. As  we’ve aged, we’ve probably all mellowed and slowed down some, but in our hey-day, we were forces to be reckoned with.