Minnesota, in the Winter, is not a destination of desirability unless you happen to be
a Penguin or a snowball . When you spend more than 5 months out of the year mostly in the house, year after year it is humbling & forces a human to resort to introspection of considerable depth at times . You have the option of conquering the season or letting it conquer you .
In late February of 1950 people of this state were still living with the horror
and fear of the 1940 Armistice Day snowstorm that killed a record number of people, many of them were found frozen to death in place while trying to reach shelter after abandoning their car on the highway, days or weeks after the blizzard, some were found frozen in mid-stride, deep in a drift .
On a cold Saturday night we set out from our very rural home in Dad's
Nash Ambassador, the only distractions from the darkness were the cold & the
clear star filled skies . The Bridge over the frozen Mississippi was made of wood
& had a particular rumble & thump to it as the timbers flexed .
I had been across this bridge before, I was familiar with the noise & the unusual
nature of it's construction, it was made like a spiral staircase with a 360 degree turn
in the middle of it to deal with the radical elevation on one side of the river,
where Limestone cliffs towered above the small town of Hastings, on the opposite side .
We were going to a reception at the Riverview Theatre, the only "picture-house"
for 40 miles in any direction .
As we pulled up to the curb, dad looked for a clearing in the snow which had been
shoveled in a continuous tall pile along the curb & finding one near the corner he
stopped & we got out of the car, gingerly stepping onto the ice covered sidewalk
we made our way against the wind, to the theater's glass doors under the marquee .
A slight incline led to the lobby & as we entered a woman in a beautiful Blue Satin
gown saw us entering & approached from across the expanse of floral carpet,
calling to my Mother she raised her left hand to wave . At that exact moment a man
in a suit & holding a drink in each hand turned around, took one step & ran into the
woman in the Blue Satin dress, spilling one glass of wine down the front of it .
She recoils & her hands go up in the air as another woman steps forward
with a hankie & begins to dab at the wet spot under her corsage .
I clearly remember that woman saying, "This dress is ruined, that
red wine will never wash out of Blue Satin !" The victim was in tears .
A crowd circled around the incident & a man behind her said "what a terrible shame for her".
At about that same moment my Dad arrived on the scene, took my mother's arm
and we started walking towards the doors that led to the seating area....
for me everything went back to darkness .
Several weeks later in April of 1950, Betty Jean knew it was time to take the familiar
25 mile drive from Langdon Grove thru the last traces of melting snow drifts and
barren early spring fields & make the steep descent to cross the rickety old
wooden bridge to the town & the Saint Francis infirmary,
where she checked in, was given one of the 8 beds and rested for what was left of
that afternoon. During the evening she began to feel the real pain of her first childbirth,
it would last well into the night.
My next clear recollection is of my mother arriving, to take me by the hand,
away from the place I had always known as home.
We walked for some distance while she explained that we would be near danger
for a while & that I needed to hold on tight, not be afraid & to listen carefully
to her instructions . The path was dark & there was a rumbling in the distance .
After a while we arrived at a riverbank where many women & babies were waiting
to cross a raging river, some were in the middle of the traverse & others on
the opposite shore . The was fear everywhere, running across the river was not the
only fear, some of the crossers would fall & be swept away while others would be
hit by large rollin objects coming down the river surface, much like snowballs and the
crossers like stones, as they were rolled over & absorbed they too would disappear downstream .
I recall Mom saying that we must hang on to each other tightly & run like the wind .
Then we began the crossing, running like the Devil was chasing us .
The surface was rubbery not liquid, it was like running on a rubber sheet stretched thin & tight,
we passed people sinking, we were nearly hit by a several of the large rolling objects & after
a long & frightening while we arrived exhausted on the opposite shore .
I remember looking back across to the place where we had started but I couldn't see it anymore,
just the other crossers as they tried to accomplish the same thing we had,
some of them not making it & leaving me sad for them .
Then I lost my my sense of place & my vision once again .
It was the day of my birth, the Nurse that handed me to my Mother was named Grace, hearing
Mom thank her by name for handing me to her was the first thing I heard when I arrived on this Earth .
A sufficiently strange start to an unusual life...
aware of myself before birth & able to recall it in enough vivid detail that shortly after I began
to speak compound sentences, I questioned Mom about the events of my earliest memories
that continued to perplex me , where did that happen, who was the woman in the blue satin dress & why were we there
& my recalling that was the 1st time I ever "saw" blue satin & how it was so pretty that to this day
it is my favorite....I can recal the original event, I can recall the day I asked about it (I was 3)
and I can recall the expression on her face the moment I ask her, white faced blank disbelief & fear,
she made the same uncontrollable expression that she did the day ball lightning passed between us
on the back porch . When she finally formulated an answer it was..."You couldn't possibly know that,
you weren't born yet !" .
Betty wanted a baby, she just wasn't prepared for the one she delivered .
Betty wanted a baby, she just wasn't prepared for the one she delivered .
