Title
MY MOTHER, THE HOMESTEADER
Creator
Bea Peterson
Coverage
TOWNSHIP 139N RANGE 99W
Text
MY MOTHER, THE HOMESTEADER
By Bea Peterson
My mother, who died two years ago at the age of ninety-three and a half, did a lot of living and loving in those many years, which covered a span from the pioneer to the modern. She picked up speed when she was born and never slackened her pace, even though the later years found her tied to a wheel chair or “donkey”, as she called her walker. Always an independent, she made her own decision when her disabilities struck, and announced to the family early that when she wasn’t able to care for herself she would go to a Home. She had worked following my father's death, in Chicago, Spokane and Couer d’Alene, and chose to live in Spokane, near most of our family. Up to her last days she called on what she called “the older people”, reading the Scriptures and singing to them.
My mother, Ida C. Olson was born in Mondovi, Wis., and at an early age went on her own, and became a postmistress in Badger, Iowa. At the age of 21 she married the town pharmacist, or druggist as they were called in those days, Olaus F Olson, a Norwegian immigrant, 15 years her senior.
Their life should have been staid and settled, sicne my father was already well established in his profession. The great North Dakota wheat bonanza changed their plans, however and our lives took on a sort of roller coaster existence. There were 10 children in our family, Kennett, the eldest, passed away in 1974. Of the ten we had one set of twins. My mother coped with every situation, regardless of where we lived, city, town, ranch or farm. Her marvelous sense of humor, and ability to adjust made every community in which we lived a special place.
My dad was an intellectual and a Norske aristocrat. His idea of homesteading was to pour thousands of dollars into labor, machines and the buildings. My mom came from country stock, her head and hands, aided by a strong back and willing children, was her contribution to our betterment in life. Both of our parents loved good music and good books. In later years, when my dad had to retire because of illness, I can recall our radio tuned every Saturday to the opera of the week, and my dad seated close beside the set listening to every note and my mother tuning in whenever she had the time to listen.
Mother never resembled Whistler's mother in any way, because even her rocking chair moved with energy as she mended or crocheted. Waste was never tolerated in our home, not in food, clothing, time or money. Mom could take a pair of boy's outworn pants and make the best looking skirt ever tailored. She could make a meal for six or sixteen out of a meager cupboard in the “Dirty Thirties” when Dad was seriously ill, and it would be a feast. Our education came first with both parents, and our participation in school activities was always encouraged and supported.
Good manners, good music, good conversation, and the best of reading material was vital in our home. We may not always have had the latest fashions in the hard years, but we were mended and clean, and we were told to stand tall. We had to watch our grammar and deportment and be courteous and considerate.
Mom had the brightest blue eyes, and a lovely smile. Her hair was brown, and done up in a bun or a braid, with little tendrils curling on the nape of her neck as she labored over the old cook stove or the newer gas range. In later years her hair was a silvery white and braided around a pink and white youthful face. Reading the Bible was always her special pleasure and comfort. When her eyesight began to fail we gave her a large print Bible. She read it through from cover to cover, never finished. She was a genuine practicing Christian and for many years, when she was physically able, her favorite vacation was to cook for free at the Badlands Bible Camp, and later out of Minneapolis. During World War II with all of my seven brothers either in active service or working at air and naval bases, her letters went out all over the world, as well as to those of us in the states. Up to the last, through many years of letter writing, Mom always had a Bible verse reference on the back flap, book, chapter and verse for us to look up and read.
To the last month of her life this pioneer North Dakotan, transplanted from Wisconsin, continued to work for her family and her friends, making stuffed toys for the Home's gift shop, laboriously making and was always at chapel for the services. She exemplified the best of the pioneers, many who did the same as she, expecting no special favors and considering the best they could do in the raising of their families required much, and that they gave.
By Bea Peterson
My mother, who died two years ago at the age of ninety-three and a half, did a lot of living and loving in those many years, which covered a span from the pioneer to the modern. She picked up speed when she was born and never slackened her pace, even though the later years found her tied to a wheel chair or “donkey”, as she called her walker. Always an independent, she made her own decision when her disabilities struck, and announced to the family early that when she wasn’t able to care for herself she would go to a Home. She had worked following my father's death, in Chicago, Spokane and Couer d’Alene, and chose to live in Spokane, near most of our family. Up to her last days she called on what she called “the older people”, reading the Scriptures and singing to them.
My mother, Ida C. Olson was born in Mondovi, Wis., and at an early age went on her own, and became a postmistress in Badger, Iowa. At the age of 21 she married the town pharmacist, or druggist as they were called in those days, Olaus F Olson, a Norwegian immigrant, 15 years her senior.
Their life should have been staid and settled, sicne my father was already well established in his profession. The great North Dakota wheat bonanza changed their plans, however and our lives took on a sort of roller coaster existence. There were 10 children in our family, Kennett, the eldest, passed away in 1974. Of the ten we had one set of twins. My mother coped with every situation, regardless of where we lived, city, town, ranch or farm. Her marvelous sense of humor, and ability to adjust made every community in which we lived a special place.
My dad was an intellectual and a Norske aristocrat. His idea of homesteading was to pour thousands of dollars into labor, machines and the buildings. My mom came from country stock, her head and hands, aided by a strong back and willing children, was her contribution to our betterment in life. Both of our parents loved good music and good books. In later years, when my dad had to retire because of illness, I can recall our radio tuned every Saturday to the opera of the week, and my dad seated close beside the set listening to every note and my mother tuning in whenever she had the time to listen.
Mother never resembled Whistler's mother in any way, because even her rocking chair moved with energy as she mended or crocheted. Waste was never tolerated in our home, not in food, clothing, time or money. Mom could take a pair of boy's outworn pants and make the best looking skirt ever tailored. She could make a meal for six or sixteen out of a meager cupboard in the “Dirty Thirties” when Dad was seriously ill, and it would be a feast. Our education came first with both parents, and our participation in school activities was always encouraged and supported.
Good manners, good music, good conversation, and the best of reading material was vital in our home. We may not always have had the latest fashions in the hard years, but we were mended and clean, and we were told to stand tall. We had to watch our grammar and deportment and be courteous and considerate.
Mom had the brightest blue eyes, and a lovely smile. Her hair was brown, and done up in a bun or a braid, with little tendrils curling on the nape of her neck as she labored over the old cook stove or the newer gas range. In later years her hair was a silvery white and braided around a pink and white youthful face. Reading the Bible was always her special pleasure and comfort. When her eyesight began to fail we gave her a large print Bible. She read it through from cover to cover, never finished. She was a genuine practicing Christian and for many years, when she was physically able, her favorite vacation was to cook for free at the Badlands Bible Camp, and later out of Minneapolis. During World War II with all of my seven brothers either in active service or working at air and naval bases, her letters went out all over the world, as well as to those of us in the states. Up to the last, through many years of letter writing, Mom always had a Bible verse reference on the back flap, book, chapter and verse for us to look up and read.
To the last month of her life this pioneer North Dakotan, transplanted from Wisconsin, continued to work for her family and her friends, making stuffed toys for the Home's gift shop, laboriously making and was always at chapel for the services. She exemplified the best of the pioneers, many who did the same as she, expecting no special favors and considering the best they could do in the raising of their families required much, and that they gave.