asement was gone <strong>and</strong> everything in the basement with it. My dad made a decision to leave the Valley altogether. He was tired of floods <strong>and</strong> loss. Many of his friends thought he was deserting them. It was a major decision. My Uncle Victor, living in Minneapolis, encouraged him to leave. Dad left as soon as possible to find work, knowing there were jobs available because of WWII. He lived with my Aunt <strong>and</strong> Uncle during this time. The men in the family moved what could be salvaged to Gr<strong>and</strong>mother’s farm. Everything that could be washed <strong>and</strong> dried was hung outside. A large amount of our things could not be saved. Mother, Jerry <strong>and</strong> I stayed on the farm for six weeks. I walked two miles across the dew saturated fields in my uncle’s large boots, to attend South-Hill Country School. I would leave the boots on the porch of the original Vanasse house to walk the country road to the school. I wore them home every day. It was not an easy adjustment. I was the only person in third grade, in the one-room school house. Several boy cousins attended with me. Everyone starred at me because I was from “town.” Looking back, I think the loss of my home, my dad being away, <strong>and</strong> knowing a big move was ahead, at ten years old, was enough without attending a new school for six weeks. Dad returned to tell us he was working on a machine he had never seen before, making armaments for the war <strong>and</strong> it was going well. He was ready to take us to the city. Mother, Jerry, <strong>and</strong> I, boarded a bus to the city. Dad hired a man, with an old truck, to carry our things to the house which he had rented for us. We did not own a car. Neither Dad, nor the truck driver, saw the signs forbidding trucks on Minnehaha Parkway; <strong>and</strong> drove straight along the entire distance, arriving safely. Even though the relatives offered to build us a house in Spring Valley, Dad stuck to his decision saying, “No more floods!” Dad didn’t listen to people telling him he was a “quitter.” Some Valley people moved to the country. Some country people moved to town. Businessmen raised the floors in their building to avert high water, but did not avoid it until the Earthen Dam was built twenty years later. The lake behind the dam became a recreational area connected with a golf course. Ironically, the dam was located across the road from where my mother was born. The l<strong>and</strong>mark of the Iron Smelter’s red, brick chimney, where my gr<strong>and</strong>father was an engineer in 1900, still stood tall. Nearby was where Mr. Zimmer cut ice for refrigerators fifty years earlier. It was difficult for my parents to leave family <strong>and</strong> friends <strong>and</strong> move to a large city. Because of the war, food rations <strong>and</strong> other restrictions were in place. Our family experienced new things: cereal in cardboard boxes, trolley cars, black people, <strong>and</strong> a much larger school <strong>and</strong> church. The large, loud military planes barley missed our roof before l<strong>and</strong>ing at the Base. We could see the detail of the underside of the planes from our house. Dad was scheduled for a physical <strong>and</strong> possible call to action when the war ended. He was 35. Beginning in November of 1942, I listened to President Roosevelt on the radio, did the grocery shopping for my family, skated on frozen Minnehaha creek, played the Parade of the Wooden Soldiers on the piano for school assembly, built a winter ice house in the back yard with my friends, cooked pancakes on a coffee can in the alley as a result of what I learned in Camp-Fire Girls, ate fresh plums from the tree in our yard in the summer, took piano lessons from the lady next door, played movie stars with my friends, <strong>and</strong> enjoyed rebuilding my life; until we moved three years later to a new house in the suburbs. I was always glad Dad had made the decision he did. About every other week we rode with my Uncle Vic, Aunt Alice, <strong>and</strong> Cousin Bob, to gr<strong>and</strong>ma’s house near Spring Valley for chicken dinner. It was always special <strong>and</strong> I never wanted to leave. Gr<strong>and</strong>ma came on the bus to visit us once. Many years later when my children were growing up, we made a tradition of driving to the coolie in Spring Valley on Memorial Day, to enjoy a picnic where our names were written in the walls of the caves <strong>and</strong> the spring water bubbled through the country side. 19 58
Mina Antonettie Nordrum Mina Antonettie Nordrum 1873-1972 59
- Page 1 and 2:
Nordrum Family A Journey from Norwa
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Acknowledgments With out the help o
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Norwegian Naming Customs Since the
- Page 7 and 8: Leaving Home His decision must have
- Page 9 and 10: Pierce County, Wisconsin handful of
- Page 11 and 12: Andreas Langum recounts, “When I
- Page 13 and 14: in the periphery of the storm. A bo
- Page 15 and 16: 1863. Edouard Manet paints Luncheon
- Page 17 and 18: The Nordrum’s log home in St. Cro
- Page 19 and 20: Johan Mikkelsen Nordrum Above: Pray
- Page 21 and 22: Above: Nordrum brothers playing in
- Page 23 and 24: Johannes, known as John, was born i
- Page 25 and 26: Above: Mary Nordrum’s Parish sdtr
- Page 27 and 28: The sitting room’s French doors o
- Page 29 and 30: Iva Lavine & Luella Josephine We’
- Page 31 and 32: tended school at Spring Valley and
- Page 33 and 34: Christian was born the 27 th of Apr
- Page 35 and 36: Looking inside Christ & Hans store
- Page 37 and 38: Nordrum Brother’s Store in Elmwoo
- Page 39 and 40: Hans & Christian Nordrum Hans, Anto
- Page 41 and 42: Friends & Family in Spring Valley M
- Page 43 and 44: “My parents were married in 1890
- Page 45 and 46: Lena Vanasse 1. Lena walked two to
- Page 47 and 48: and small stemmed -ware containing
- Page 49 and 50: syrup. Will’s father, Peter, bega
- Page 51 and 52: L.D. Veltum, was waiting to take hi
- Page 53 and 54: love and grace to her peaceful soul
- Page 55 and 56: egularly to church, and businesses
- Page 57: Memories of Spring Valley, Wisconsi
- Page 61 and 62: St. Paul Minnesota St. Luke’s Hos
- Page 63 and 64: The Spring Valley Sun Left to Right
- Page 65 and 66: Jerome Fry Kills Johnson Killed By
- Page 67 and 68: FRY IS FOLLOWED HOME Soon afterward
- Page 69 and 70: daughter of E.J. Long, in 1880 and
- Page 71 and 72: Who was Jerome Fry Jerome Fry was b
- Page 73 and 74: Memories of Shelton, Washington (1)
- Page 75 and 76: Verna & Nettie Ellison Circa 1913 A
- Page 77 and 78: Nettie’s New Home Albert believed
- Page 79 and 80: Dear Tony and all: Well, I am fine.
- Page 81 and 82: every week and she says I can read
- Page 83 and 84: “Would you say a few words before
- Page 85 and 86: Amund Mikkelson Nordrum b. 1773, To
- Page 87 and 88: v. BRYCE JONATHAN VANASSE, b. 23 Ju
- Page 89 and 90: Children of LEONARD VANASSE and MAR
- Page 91 and 92: iii. DENISE DELORAS (LORI) ALTON, b
- Page 93 and 94: SON 1 ) was born 20 Sep 1959 in Riv
- Page 95 and 96: was born 30 Dec 1958 in Hudson, St.
- Page 98 and 99: Descendants of Nettie Nordrum Johns
- Page 100 and 101: 9. FRANCIS JUNE 4 HARDY (Alma Josep
- Page 102 and 103: He married ADRIENNE NICOLE MADDIX 0
- Page 104 and 105: Testimony in the case against Jerom
- Page 106 and 107: Q. What caused it A. It could be ca
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A. Sometime on Saturday afternoon.
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ing around as if shuffling their fe
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thing to do with it. Q. You did not
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A. It is very frequent. Q. You live
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that I should go up to the section
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A. Immediately North of the bar. Q.
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Q. Do you know of any persons who w
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from breaking dishes and hurting th
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A. The front door. Q. Did you wait
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A. The boys came and said he was no
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him then. Jerry O’Connor Jerry O
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in which the assumption is made tha
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Sources: (1) “Naming Practices of