Steve and Irene Ruzich
If you put your head to the ground in Gnometown, you may hear many strange sounds of little gnomes, playing and working. If you are still long enough, you may be fortunate enough to actually watch these happy little people and realize how industrious they are, and how compassionate they can be to each other and even to us, who are larger. It was under these circumstances that I saw the story of Steve and Irene unfold. I noticed a new gnome one day. This gnome was not as small as the others. He was tall, almost 5-1/2 inches. Most gnomes get to be no taller than the height of a juicy red apple. Unfortunately, the young among the gnomes thought him to be very strange and teased him until he finally withdrew to sit dejectedly, under a fallen box elder tree. “Too tall,” he thought, “too tall to hide under the dandelion leaves, my legs are too long to scrunch into walnut shells the others use to slide down the hills in the snow, and too tall to work in the tuber mines, always bumping my head on some root or other. Whatever will become of me, I don’t fit in and I’m not good at anything.” Tiny tears dripped down his face, and he scooted back a little farther in the shadows when he heard a bunch of little happy voices coming. “Everybody stop here for a minute and look at this flower,” the beloved teacher Irene beckoned. “This is a Sunflower. It is a very tall and beautiful flower which can be planted to produce food for humans and birds to eat and the oil extracted for cooking and the stems used for roofs on our gnome gazebos in the summer.” Trying to observe other plantings and rocks, she turned to notice the tall, weepy gnome in the shadows and cautiously moved closer. “You look so sad, what is your name?” “Slim,” he very softly whimpered. “What is wrong and how can I help you?” she said caringly. “I’m too tall, way too tall, and they tease me. I don’t fit in and I’m not good at doing anything,” Slim answered in absolute dejection. “Oh, my dear, that is not true, you are like this tall sunflower,” Irene counseled trying to lift his spirits. “You are very handsome and I know you will someday be able to do something many others cannot do as well as you. Let me dry your tears and you come with us. My husband, Steve, who works in tuber mines, may have an idea.” So off they walked, across town to the fertile carrot fields. The carrot crop was thriving and Steve was on feeding detail that day, which sent him deep in the mine to feed each carrot the sweet nectar which the ladybugs brought from the honeysuckle trees. Dirty and sweaty, he met Irene at the gopher hole entrance near the north end of the filed. “Steve, see that young, tall gnome over there. His name is Slim. He feels like he doesn’t fit in and isn’t good at anything,” stated Irene urgently. “Can you help him?” “I’m glad to meet you, Slim. My, you are tall! You must be 2 acorns taller than I.” observed Steve. “I’m done with work, cone on, let’s go down by the river and play some Berryball with the others.” Reluctantly, the tall, young gnome followed but soon was involved in a game of Berryball, which was rolling a berry into a coke bottle, lying on its side, with one team trying to keep the other team from getting it in the neck of the bottle. “This is boring,” said a player in disappointment, “It’s too easy to score and the bottle fills up so fast.” “I’ve got a better idea,” coached Steve with a wink. “Let’s tip the bottle up on end and you’ll have to throw it up and try to get it in the bottle. It will be hard, because it is so high but it could be fun! Let’s try it!” So they did. It was more challenging and more fun. They played vigorously and made up new rules, like dribbling and fouling and free throws, as they went along. Slim found he had a huge advantage, being so tall; he could get the berry in easier and more often that anyone else. Everybody wanted him on their team. Soon they were having regular tournaments and Teacher Irene and her class came to cheer them on when they played and kept score. From then on, Steve was known as “Coach Steve” for thinking of this great new game of Berryball and he kept watch on the players so they followed the rules and didn’t get hurt. Thanks to the concern of Irene and inventiveness of Steve, Slim finally felt a sense of belonging to his team and among all the gnomes. He finally found something for which he could be recognized. Now the young gnomes, who had teased him, carried him off on their shoulders in a victory parade. Slim, finally, fit in. Steve and Irene met as young gnomes in the very beginning of their arrival in Gnometown, on the steps of the school when Steve, a very polite and honorable gnome, opened the door for a new, pretty teacher, who was loaded with books and papers for her first day of teaching. After a few years, Irene was called by the gnomes in Pipestone to teach, but Steve missed her terribly and asked her to marry him. So they were married and lived near the river under the roots of a strong, shady elm tree. Irene taught many little gnomes what they needed to know when they were young and Steve would teach them about the rest of the world when they were older and taught them how to play Berryball. And, of course, he remained “Coach Steve”, who always remembered the special things about each and every one of them. Vernon Stevens
Gnomes are most often born in Gnometown, but this legend begins in the hamlet of Boyd where Vernon was born to Large Ones, Ralph and Gertie Stevens. Life on the farm with brother, Marvin, and sister, Ardis, also included uncles, Harry and Eddie Gilbertson, plus Grandpa John and Grandma Ida. It was there that Vern gained his appreciation for farm animals, wildlife, nature and the benefits of hard work. Sunday mornings, you could find the whole family at Trinity Lutheran Church in the third pew from the back on the north side. Vernon’s faith grew through Sunday school, choir and fellowship gatherings, where coffee, a Gnome magic potion, was served to Gnomes and Large Ones alike. Vern decided that youth education was his destiny so he continued life at Saint Cloud State University and became a teacher. The Gnometown Collective was struggling with school funding and the idea of an “area school” was being considered. While teaching in Boyd, Vern began to realize his passion for the preservation of the strong Dawson-Boyd communities and worked diligently to unite the school systems. Vernon knew he would need to make Gnometown his home to further his heart’s vision. So, in 1977, he made the move to Gnometown and settled south of the river. Leadership of the Gnomettes at school gave Vern the opportunity to wear his heart on his sleeve and demonstrate the importance of each individual Gnomette. He always encouraged them to excel through rewards like popcorn parties, personal attention, new pencils and colorful handprints on the walls. He often found new ways to expand the Gnomette’s world by bringing nature, wildlife, and arts to their school. The Rapture Center and the Minnesota Zoo were exciting visitors. Chickens, ducks and turkeys hatched in incubators in the school office and artists came to live in Gnometown while they taught. Vern cheerfully kept giving and knew the source of his big heart was God’s love. Nurturing continued for him from Trinity Lutheran and he shared his musical talents through choir directing, playing the organ and singing. All this musical energy ignited others to expand and share their talents. While at home, he enjoyed serving plenty of coffee and home cooked delights. At Christmas, when the family gathered he would read pieces of the Christmas story, light candles, and sing carols. The outside lights of his home had a welcoming glow with his extensive decorations. Although he liked his first home, his dream was to design and build a new home in the country. Here, he could live close to town, and have chickens and dogs. April, his dog, blessed him with several litters of puppies. Over 100 exotic chickens lived in his special coop with the cupola from the barn of the old farm. The new house accommodated large groups and held lots of special meetings. His long-held dream of a performing arts center came about here. Vernon knew that importance of having our larger community experience the arts and though eh worked hard to make it happen, e could only be there in spirit when the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra performed in Gnometown. While he made a fuss over the accomplishments of others, he was very humble about the awards given to him for his outstanding promotion of the arts and skillful ways in which he helped to meld prairie culture to the world at large. His efforts to help the arts and artists in SW Minnesota earned him the “Prairie Disciple Award”. He received the School Administrator Award and because of a letter writing campaign to the troops, he received an “Outstanding Americanism Award” from the American Legion and as a charter member of the Lion’s Club was frequently recognized for his talents there. Eventually, Vernon’s heart became so big and so full that he could not carry it anymore. He decided to set his heart free to do the things big hearts do, like adding beautiful colors to sunsets, inspire Gnomes to move forward with a performing arts center, increase sparkle in the snow and encourage young, college-bound Gnomes to discover their own hearts. Harland and Gladys Thoen
In bygone days, Gnometown was a small community where each gnome family cultivated a garden from which came many types of vegetables and grains. The gnomes led a simple life. They worked hard to provide for their families, and they greatly enjoyed the companionship of their fellow gnomes out by trading goods and services for the grains that the gnomes grew in their fields. This enterprising gnome was named Harland. The people of Gnometown came to know Harland, the grain merchant, as an honest and hard-working gnome. Harland loved his fellow gnomes and treated them fairly and with a great deal of respect. At about the same time, at the other end of town, a gnome by the name of Gladys decided that what Gnometown really needed was a lace where grain could be ground into flour. She ran all the operations of the new flour mill, and the gnomes found the mill to be a great addition to their community. The gnomes of Gnometown came to do much trading with Gladys, the miller. She, too, as well respected and admired in Gnometown, especially for the enterprising skills she demonstrated in what most gnomes at the time thought was typically ‘male’ sort of occupation. She was indeed ahead of her time. As time wore on, it turned out that the grain merchant found that he did a lot of business with the miller. One day as the two were discussing the barter price of a sack of rye, Harland and Gladys realized that they had interests in more than merely grain. Yes, love makes the world go ‘round, and Gnometown is no exception to that rule. Harland and Gladys fell in love, and the rest, as they say, is Gnometown history. Together, Harland and Gladys raised three ‘gnome-ettes’; Ann, Larry and Pam. They taught these young gnome-ettes all of the many important lessons and traditions held so dear in Gnometown, such as faith, love, and charity, an appreciation for good coffee, and Ole and Lena jokes. Dealing in grain wasn’t enough to contain the huge spirits of Harland and Gladys. They devoted great time and effort to helping out their fellow gnomes and making Gnometown an altogether wonderful place on which to live. Harland served on many boards, including those at the school, the hospital, and several at the church. He also found time to golf, enjoy music, and he was an avid reader, particularly of gnome as well as non-gnome history. Gladys gave much of her time to helping out her fellow gnomes, too. She served many times as the president of the church’s female gnome group. She taught the ways of the church to young gnome-ettes for 45 years. Harland did as well for many years. Gladys spent much time gathering and delivering the news of all the gnome goings-on. This news was delivered far and wide, within Gnometown and also to those gnomes and gnome-ettes who had left Gnometown to seek their fortune in the wild and dangerous world of the non-gnome. Even after ‘retiring’, Harland found himself very busy. He delivered many a meal on wheels to those who need a little extra help. He and Gladys were both part of the county cancer board, a job that requires many different fund-raising events. They both love to sing, and their voices could be heard as part of the church choir. But most of all, they love the visits of friends and family. Their door is always open to gnomes and non-gnomes alike. They consider themselves fortunate to have had such a wonderful life together and to have become party of the deep tradition and folklore that makes up the history of Gnometown. Dr. Phil and Jean Maus
The legend of gnomes Jean and Phil is one of magical coincidences and chemistry. Jean and Phil were both born near Gnometown in 1928 and schooled in towns whose names “MA”. The power of MA infused in each with the spirits of their mothers, who shared the MAiden name Hilda E. Larson. Jean, like her mother, is shy, with a nurturing, feeling nature. Like his mother, Phil is direct, having logical, practical nature. Together they strike the balance of Norwegian and Swede, Scandinavian counterparts to Yin and Yang. Having grown up in the shadows of Gnometown, each knew the rumors of gnomes. As a child, Jean heard many tales of them from her father. But neither had spied gnomes, nor dreamt of The Becoming. Chemistry literally brought Jean and Phil together in a hallway at St. Olaf College, a school rich in gnome lore. Each was waiting to speak to the same chemistry professor. (Detractors, perhaps from Jean’s hometown, have maintained this meeting was no accident. As knowers of Jean’s shy nature and Believers in magic, we can ignore this theory.) Even as newly wed Jean and Phil embarked on their life together in the Big City, the gnome winds were gathering to blow them back to the Prairie. To protect themselves from the Large Ones, the Gnomes of Dawson had developed a secret potion. When ingested by Large Ones, this substance created the illusion that gnomes were also large and made their magical realm seem familiar. The gnomes called this potion “coffee”, which they doled out by the potful to visiting Large Ones. Jean and Phil were on a steady regimen of coffee from July to November of 1954, when they first resided in Gnometown. (It was widely known that the Air Force of Large Ones would make Jean and Phil leave Dawson for a time. They dared not court disaster by rushing the Becoming.) When Jean and Phil returned to Gnometown for good in 1957, the time for their Becoming had arrived. They had settled in the Pines, making good friends and neighbors among this grove and the nearby Chestnuts. The Pine gnomes surrounded Jean and Phil’s tree, pointing their Becoming sticks at them, chanting “Bodies grow small, here in you home. Hearts become large, the sign of the gnome.” For some Large Ones, the transformation is gradual. As Jean and Phil (especially Phil) were small by Large One standards, The Becoming was rapid. Jean and Phil, of shy and practical natures, did not question their new statures or surroundings. They merely admired and wondered at the hearts on their sleeves. Jean and Phil quickly learned the importance of the Collective and busied themselves making contributions to it. Phil had studied medicine with the Large Ones and, under Doc Bill’s tutelage, learned much about gnome folk medicine. Phil worked hard with Bill and many others to secure a new Folk Medicine Center in Gnometown. Phil’s work ethic and high expectations at the Folk Medicine Center were legendary. So was his demeanor when the unexpected happened, which earned him the moniker of a famous dwarf, “Grumpy”. But all quickly learned that beneath his bark was the big heart of a puppy, as loyal and true as Phil’s patients were to him. Outside the branches of the Folk Medicine Center, Phil’s reputation was that of a diplomat. He served on many gnome boards and committees throughout church, school, and the Collective, and taught practical magic to many EMTs. Gnome Phil’s special chemistry and talents are healing, organizing, and teaching, sharing the heart on his sleeve on a wide community level. Jean’s heart, as with most gnome-folk women of her time, was focused on her family. She kept Phil organized (no easy task) and never missed an opportunity to make her kids feel special. Jean religiously attended her children’s activities and always kept their cookie jar full. She rejoiced at The Becoming of her beloved dad, Jake, who spent his final years in Gnometown. Jean’s special chemistry originated in the kitchen. She cooked and baked for many church and school functions and has entertained many a prospective Gnometown doctor. She still delivers Norwegian rice to friends and neighbors needing homemade love and nourishment. Jean shares the heart on her sleeve quietly, one-on-one, through church circles, the Folk Medicine Auxiliary, bloodmobiles, and meals on wheels. In happy “retirement”, Jean and Phil continue the Gnometown traditions of compassion and community service on scales large and small. Phil still enjoys the Game of Scottish Gnomes and hiding cornfields with other goosehunter gnomes. Jean loves to feed the birds (and squirrels) and enjoys coffee and cards with the girls, particularly the gnome game “River Span”. They both relish time with friends and family, especially with children Tim and Tami, daughter-in-law Pat, granddaughter Emily and, of course, gnome cat Norskie. They continue to lend their chemistry to the magical alchemy of Gnometown. And it’s no coincidence that they humbly thank all you gnomes for this great honor. Jean and Phil feel very blessed to have become one of you. Rudy Prestholdt
“Play ball!” With those words, or the sound of a buzzer, you could be sure that Gnome Rudy was sitting in his regular seat at every basketball or volleyball game in which his grandchildren were involved. You could also see his van parked in the same spot at softball games. When the van was hit by a stray ball – which happened numerous times – it’s just part of the game. Gnome Rudy was born in Cerro Gordo Township in 1921. At age 15, he, his recently widowed mother and two sisters ran the family farm. No matter how busy he was with farming chores, there was always time on Sunday afternoon for a game of farmyard softball with neighbors and friends. He and Bernice Skurdahl were married in 1943. Three sons; Robert, Charles and James gave them great joy. Playing catch was a favorite among the boys – even in the house! On occasion, something was broken but Rudy never got angry, just laughed along. How Bernice felt about it we don’t know. Church, children and community have always been a big priority in Gnome Rudy’s life. He was on the Dawson-Boyd School Board for 10 years. During this time, he helped work out the details for combining the Dawson and Boyd school systems and building the new addition to the school. He was an active member of Borgund Lutheran Church. Gnome Rudy’s love for softball is well known in Gnometown. In 1939, just after graduation from high school, he helped organize the first Cerro Gordo softball team. You could almost guarantee seeing him, and usually his wife and sister, at any softball game whether it be high school fast pitch, summer leagues or Cerro Gordo games. He liked to give umpires a bad time, not in anger; he just loved the game and the Cerro Gordo team. Then he would sit and chat with the umpires; laughing and smiling. Gnome Rudy cheerfully talks with anyone when the subject is sports. In 1950, Gnome Rudy built a fertilizer business call Midwest Fertilizer and Supply Company. He operated this for 25 years. Upon retirement, Rudy was joined by other interested persons in organizing Dawson Development Corporation. It was staffed by volunteers devoted to the purpose of encouraging new businesses and/or individuals in coming to the Dawson business scene. The Dawson Development Corporation also assisted local businessmen that may have needed some help remaining here. In 1992, Rudy was elected to the Minnesota Softball Hall of Fame and was a chartered member. He was honored for his love and interest in the promotion of softball in Minnesota. This was not only through the Cerro Gordo team, but through the numerous leagues and tournaments of which he was a part. The Dawson community also honored his contribution to the sport by the 1994 dedication of the softball complex as Prestholdt Fields. Gnome Rudy enjoyed going out for “coffee” uptown everyday. You could be sure he’d be wearing his wingtip shoes. This is a “must” whether it is at church, the field, uptown, or anywhere a person might see him. His grandchildren knew he would be in attendance at every activity in which they took part in, no matter how great the distance that needed to be traveled. They knew it was Grandpa Rudy by his familiar “Hi pal”, or the jingle of his coins and keys in his pocket. When he took them fishing he never he never baited his own hook so that he didn’t catch any fish. He wanted the grandkids to feel good. His gnome home was every kid’s home. Everyday after school, you could find kids having snacks and watching TV. Anyone was welcome at any time. Gnome Rudy would always do what he could to help his sons, grandchildren, nieces, nephews and just about anyone else. He’d always be there to lend a helping hand or to drive a grandchild to a place they needed to go. Whatever needs to be done, he is there to help. Gnome Rudy was dedicated to making Gnometown Dawson a better community for people of all interests, whether the school system, the business district, or on the recreational side of life. His philosophy was always “Let’s make Gnometown a place to love, enjoy, and take pride in.” Elder Molstad
“Anyone for fishing?” came the booming voice from outside the bakery. “I’ve finished the baking for today.” Baker Elder always found someone to fish with him. Each was hoping to pick up some tips on how to catch a big one – or any one for that matter. Most of the time he was light on his feet, but one of his fishing friends told how he once stepped on one friend’s rod and broke off the tip then shut the boat compartment on the other friend’s rod. All on one trip! Still, Elder just had “the touch” and could out-fish everyone. Baker Elder was born in Madison, Mn in 1914. He met and married his wife and lifetime partner, Millie, in Lake Park, Iowa. She says he won her heart because he was such a good dancer. Those that knew him think his brilliant blue eyes and warm gnomish heart had a lot to do with it. Elder and Millie bought the Gnometown Bakery in 1951. They also started a family and raised Stan, Janet, Lynne and Rick right here in Gnometown. He worked long, hard hours turning out breads, cakes and every kind of goodie. Through the years Elder and Millie had about 60 Gnometown kids working for them at the bakery. Early in the morning they could hear his cheerful and unusual whistle two blocks away! This whistle was also a hint to his card partners that he had a good hand. Elder’s generosity to others was known throughout Gnometown. He always seemed to bake too much on holidays and special occasions. Then, he’d give the surplus to the hospital and nursing home. He did the baking for many community events and was known far and wide for his cinnamon bread and fruit cakes. In 1996 Elder was inducted into the Minnesota Bakers’ Hall of Fame. Elder’s big hands could handle breaking two eggs in each hand at one time, and could still decorate a cake with delicate flowers or gently hold his tiny great-granddaughter. Elder loved all sports. Everyone on or near the gold course knew when Elder was playing – keeping quiet on the course was not one of his rules. When he bowled he’d have to pound his big fingers into the holes of the bowling ball. Scores were not important to him. It was companionship before, during, and after sports that mattered to him. For twenty years he visited residents at the Gnometown Nursing Home three days a week. The residents would visibly perk up when they heard his voice booming down the hall. He’d always give them a hug 00 “You’ve got to touch ‘em” was his motto. Elder was always a good-will ambassador when he traveled. He would shake hands and say, “Hi, I’m Elder Molstad, a baker from Gnometown, Mn. Do you know where Gnometown is? Please come visit us.” When he met St. Peter at the Gates of Heaven he probably said, “Hi, I’m baker Elder from Gnometown, Mn.” St. Peter probably said, “Welcome, we’ve been missing some really good cinnamon bread here!” Baker Elder was blunt, opinionated, a real person, and much loved by the community. Bless his big gnome heart! Gerald Michaelson
Fall was settling in over Gnometown and all of the gnomes had gathered around a roaring bonfire on a clear, crisp night to celebrate the end of a bountiful harvest. After sharing a plentiful meal, the gnomes were eagerly anticipating the telling of the story of Farmer Gerry. This was one of their favorite stories because Farmer Gerry did so many interesting and wonderful things, and in the gnome tradition, he did them humbly, out of love for God, his family and community. Believe it or not, Farmer Gerry wasn’t born on a farm. Mother Mathilde, a school teacher, and Father Louie, a businessman, began their family in a gnome home in town but moved their family to the farm when the Great Depression arrived. Farmer Gerry loved living on the farm with his parents and siblings: Mike, Cutzie, Helen, Carol, Kay and Elsie. There was always work to be done, but Farmer Gerry found ways to have fun too, like secretly saddling up old Raven and bursting out the barn door past his brother to ride away and play with his friend on the neighboring farm. Life on the farm planted in him his love of agriculture. Life with his parents and siblings sowed the seeds of faith and commitment to God and the joy of volunteering. When he was in high school he had a car, so his mother would volunteer him to drive her friends on errands. Eventually, Farmer Gerry would leave (temporarily) Gnometown, but not before becoming an active 4-H member and quarterbacking a never-scored on championship football team. Like many other young gnome men at the time, Farmer Gerry left home to serve in the great war called WWII. He enlisted in the Marines and was trained as a fighter pilot. Fortunately, the enemy heard what a skilled and courageous pilot Farmer Gerry was so they surrendered (or at least that’s what Farmer Gerry would later tell his children). After the war, Farmer Gerry went off to the St. Paul campus of the U of M to further his knowledge and love of agriculture and to meet the love of his life, Patsy! He made his Gnometown proud in college by his leadership and ambition to improve the College of Agriculture. After working for three years as a county agriculture extension agent, Farmer Gerry, wife Patsy and little David moved back to the farm just outside of Gnometown where he’d spent his childhood days. Gnometown was full of new opportunities for a gnome like Farmer Gerry. He got involved in lots of community activities and it wasn’t long before his enthusiasm for and knowledge of agriculture was put to good use. He was a director and member of the Farm Bureau, Dawson Grain, Dawson Mills, Minnesota Agri-growth Council, USDA Advisory Committee on Grain and many others. He was also a member of the American Soybean Association and eventually became the president and chairman of the board. Oh, the gnome adventures he tells of all the interesting people he’s met and the exciting places he’s gone, promoting soybeans grown by American farmers. He traveled to communist USSR, Poland, pre-war Yugoslavia and South America, not to mention all over the United States. Farmer Gerry was also very busy over the years, right here in Gnometown. He and Patsy had two more children, Maren and Kristi. He was a hands-on farmer for many years, raised livestock and started a fertilizer business. Local community support and development were and continue to be very dear to his heart. He was an involved member of Grace Lutheran Church, Gnometown Chamber of Commerce, the American Legion and a director of Minnwest Bank. In 1984, he served as chairman of Gnometown Centennial and was very active in helping to build the Johnson Memorial Hospital and expanding Johnson Memorial Nursing Home. He represented Gnometown on the boards of the Southwest Initiative Foundation and the Courage Center. Through all this activity, Farmer Gerry cherished the blessings of a loving family and good friends. Farmer Gerry was the gnome who secretly delivered poinsettias at Christmas time and hid to see the joy on the faces of those who received them. So you may think that you’ve never seen a gnome? Next time you experience a random act of kindness, you’ve been in the presence of a gnome like Farmer Gerry. Areta Schmoker Wold As you probably know, gnomes live to be very, very old. It’s no different here in Gnometown, Mn. We, however, are so lucky to have our very own historian to keep track of all the important events that have happened in Gnometown the past 136 years. Our 1995 gnome is historian, author, and teacher…Areta Schmoker Wold. On, January 10, 1909, near Fort Dodge, Iowa, this little gnome named Areta Loretta was born to a young school teacher, Molly Ellen Kelly, and her industrious farmer husband, Martin Christian Schmoker, whom Molly met when he was on the school board in her school district. Sisters Dorothy and Maxine entered this world a few years later to complete this close knit gnome family! Life in Iowa was full of many happy memories with much social fellowship with relatives and neighbors at church and school functions. When Areta was nine years old, this active young family moved to rural Dawson, Mn to the farm Martin purchased from the George Sear family. Traveling with all your household possessions, machinery and livestock by train was a long and exciting trip. The train was filled with people moving to western Minnesota including the family of Pastor Wee, the new pastor to the Hauge Church (later Riverside Church, and now Grace Lutheran Church). When the family arrived in Dawson, they had to stay at the local hotel for two days before venturing to their new farm. Since there were no boys in the family, Areta helped her father with the field work, driving the horses that were pulling the machinery and other outdoor tasks. Their food was all raised on the farm with food preparation and preservation a part of the daily routine. Farmers helped each other with threshing. Neighborhood gatherings were a happy diversion from all the hard work. A passion for reading was inspired by Molly, Areta’s mother, as she would read a portion of a book to her young daughters at a specific time each day and always managed to leave off at an exciting place to encourage the anticipation of the next reading session. It gave Areta such a love for reading that she would read any book she could get her hands on. School and church were important to Areta’s parents, and the high regard for the importance of education was instilled in her. Even though they lived only a few miles southeast of Gnometown, it was necessary to board and room in town homes while attending Gnometown High School. After graduating with academic honors, Areta attended teachers training in Madison, and taught two years at District #26. She was able to save enough money to enter St. Cloud Teachers College. The Stock Market Crash of October, 1929 started a recession that spread to the Midwest in the early 30s. The Depression caused the banks to close and Areta lost the money she had so diligently saved. She was discouraged. Determined to attain an education, she bravely borrowed money for college and graduated with academic honors in 1931 with an Associate Degree. Areta taught six years in District #26 and Hamlin Consolidated Schools before her marriage to Harold Wold, a local young farmer. She resumed her teaching career during WWII when she taught two years in Boyd. Harold began working in the retail business in Gnometown and in May 1947, their family, which now included two children, Mary and Rollin, moved to town. Her career in Gnometown began with teaching sixth grade, and continued as Principal of elementary grades. She continued her education, earning a Bachelor of Science Degree from St. Cloud State College, graduate work at the U of M and workshops at SDSU. In 1959 she began teaching Junior High English, continuing until her retirement in 1975. Life for Areta was enriched by belonging to the Gnometown Study Club for 48 years, working in her church and community, serving as President of Gnometown PTA, and on the Gnometown Library Board for 30 years. She was active in the Lac qui Parle Historical Society. In 1992 Areta’s writings about Gnomeotwn’s Ethel Melum, which emphasized Ethel’s doll display and other collectibles, were published in a book called “Gathered Sheaves Under the Eaves.” Areta had earlier written a booklet about her home school district #26 and has occasionally been requested to write for others. She has many ‘growing up” true stories she has written to share with her family. Areta enjoyed being a grandmother to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Harold passed away in October, 1992. She was fortunate to have their children, Mary (and Paul Wager) and Rollie (and Rose) Wold also living in Gnometown. Gnometown is also fortunate….they had Areta! Morris and Kathryn Benson It was a time of great prosperity in Gnometown. The little village had grown into a thriving community. Commerce with the nearby towns of trolls and dwarfs was creating a business community that Gnometown had never had before with shops and merchants and traders. But with the new prosperity also came some new challenges that Gnometown had never had before, either. Roads needed to be upgraded and maintained, communication between the merchants appeared to be necessary and the fire flies in the street lamps needed to be changed routinely, as well. Great debates were held over how to oversee the needs of the town, who was to be responsible and how the monies were to be raised and managed. One young gnome was selected to coordinate some of the work committees and chair a biweekly merchants’ meeting. His name was Morris. Morrie, as he was known to his friends, had organized some informal meetings of the merchants in the past and seemed to be very capable of the task at hand. It proved to be a huge undertaking, much more that the young gnome had anticipated,. At first, it went fairly smoothly, but for every problem solved, another appeared. Morris finally approached the town elders about the possibility of his getting an assistant. After a short debate the elders agreed and Morris began thinking of who he would ask to help him. Just then another young gnome name Kay walked past with a few of her friends. Kay ran a children’s group, organizing squirrel rides to the nearby woods in the summer and acorn cap sledding trips I the winter. Morrie knew her to be intelligent and well liked in the community, and therefore the perfect choice for his assistant. Morrie approached Kay the following day, and she readily accepted his offer. Under their guidance, Gnometown continued to grow and prosper. A small landing strip was even built because gnomes from communities a great distance away were flying in on geese and ducks to confer with Morrie and Kay. Prosperity was not only limited to Gnometown, it seems! As Kay and Morrie spent more and more of their time together, something wonderful began to happen. They began to fall in love. One clear winter day, Morrie asked Kay to become his partner in life, as well as business. As before, Kay readily agreed. Their wedding was the social event of the year, trolls and gnomes from other villages attending. The crickets and gnats rehearsed their music for weeks and when the great day arrived, everything was perfect. There, under the bluebells and before their family, friends, and all the others, Kay and Morrie were married in the traditional gnome ceremony. Afterward, there was much feasting and dancing. Everyone in the community had contributed to the wedding feast, and the tables overflowed with the food. At the end of the evening, Kay and Morrie left for their honeymoon. A beautiful and festive wood duck carried them from the small landing strip they had helped to build. But, the honeymoon would have to be a short one; there was still much work to be done tin Gnometown! Morris V. Benson was born on November 30th, 1916 in Elk Mound, Wisconsin to Emma and Thomas Benson, He graduated from St. Paul Johnson High School and attended Macalaster College. Kathryn Jackson was born October6th, 1915 in Dawson, Mn to Edwin and Gudrun Jackson. She graduated from Dawson High School and attended Macalaster College. It was at college that Morrie and Kay met and were married. They returned to Dawson after Joan was born. Morrie served in the U.S. Army in 1945-1946. He was employed in several business ventures…which included owning a dry cleaning business, driving but, working for Lund Hardware Store and at a station until he went into partnership with Ed Jackson in the Dawson Oil Co. and later with George Trotter for a total of 34 years. Morrie and Kay were active in the church and community. Kay served as organist and choir director at Presbyterian Church, and Morrie as soloist. Morrie was Mayor of Dawson and has served as Chamber Secretary and Lac qui Parle Count Commissioner for many years. He was an active member of the Lions Club and Kay worked for many years in the Girl Scout program, as well as the Red Cross Bloodmobile, and Meals on Wheels, and Welcome Neighbor programs. In 1981, Morrie and Kay were Jaycee Citizens of the Year. Their son, John, was born in Dawson, graduated from Dawson Hugh School and from Macalaster College. Joan teaches special education in the Anoka School System. Both Morrie and Kay were dedicated volunteers in the Dawson community worked to promote Dawson. John Solie
Our 1993 Gnome, John Solie, was born in the small rural community of Fountain, MN in 1914. His father owned the town’s Drug Store, which was really a General Store. He attended grade school in Fountain and then on to Preston, MN for high school. After graduation, he attended U of M where he met his best friend and the girl who would give him encouragement for many years to come. Her name…Mary Carney of Des Moines, IA. They have three sons; Eric, Roger and Mark. After graduation from the U of M he taught at Renville, Mn for 3 years. In 1938, he arrived in Dawson and the rest is history. He left for a time in 1944 to join the Navy during WWII. He returned to Dawson in 1946 and thereafter Dawson became home for this gnome, and for the next 30 years he brought his special brand of music to the Dawson community. John made a difference in the lives of many students who came in contact with him. Mary also taught music in the school and at their home, between raising the boys. John retired from teaching in 1976. Now John and Mary spend their time enjoying their home, grandchildren and making music. The Power of the Stick – In the Land of Gnats and Gnomes This is the tale of long ago, in the land where gnomes prevail. Once, rivers and lakes consumed the prairie, and then reduced themselves to more reasonable proportions. A land that becomes rich with the power of the sun and rains. Then, quite regularly, the sun retreats; the land becomes still and dormant while the snow and wind take their toll. Enough about the land. What about the gnomes, and the gnats, and the stick? You say you are Gnometown folks and you have never seen a gnome? You have, dear reader, I assure you that you have. As I was saying, in the land that was resting in the frostiness of winter, the young boy, John, was beginning to show gnome-like qualities. He had the business of the eyebrows, the enlarged dimples in his cheeks and the huskiness of build that would allow him to survive in the wild land. One day, walking home from school, he heard the sounds of cruelty coming from the frozen river. Now, there are two sure signs of a gnome; one, being unable to accept cruelty to other living things, and two, an unyielding alliance to animals and nature. As he approached the river, the yells of boyhood cruelty became louder. He also heard the frantic yelps of the neighbor’s dog, Shep. John felt an overwhelming compassion for the dog and a terrible anger at the cruelty his boyhood friends were showing. The elders say when gnomes feel this anger they are most powerful and their anger becomes magic. He ran on to the ice and found the largest stick he had ever seen. He began swinging it back and forth with frightful vengeance at the dog’s tormentors. With all his strength he pounded the stick on the ice until it shattered into hundred of splinters! His friends stared in disbelief. Could this be their comrade in fun and frolic? He had never acted so –surely he must be a gnome! The boys quickly stopped taunting the dog and fled from this incredible gnome power. The boy was exhausted. He stood in the silence of the still river while tears of fear for the dog and exhaustion streamed down his face. At that very moment four gnomes appeared. Each with a long beard, bushy eyebrows, and a mission. Each walked onto the ivy river and carefully picked up one of the splinter of the stick. Each gently pulled the longest, strongest grey hair from his gnome beard and tied it to their sticks. Then, each reached deeply into his picket, pulled out something small and black and tied it to the end of the string. Could this be the gnats? They seemed to be gnats- in the extreme cold the gnats came to life. They flew and danced in the air until they began to make sound. The sounds began to take shape and color. But they were not beautiful sounds yet. They were sounds of confusion and disorganization. Then a fifth gnome came over the hill and down to the river. He was angry because of the loud, unmelodic noise. He grabbed one of the splinters of stick and waved it frantically at the gnats. At that moment the sounds became crystal clear musical notes to John’s eyes and ears. The fifth gnome thrust the magical splinter of stick into John’s hands and disappeared over the riverbank as quickly as he had appeared. In disbelief John lifted the stick in the air and slowly directed the movement of the gnats. The sounds were truly beautiful. It was a magical stick. He would carry it with him all his life and perfect its powers. He would share the magic and bring out the very best sounds of others. Just in case his stick would wear out he decided to gather up all the other splinters too. John, that boy on the ice who experienced real magic that day, did go on to be a waver of sticks. He carried his magic with him; he shared it with others and sent all he taught and directed out into the world to share the magic of music. Whether waving the magical stick of drawing the bow of a violin, the Maestro of Gnometown continues to make musical magic. So you see – you unbelievers – you have been looking at a gnome for years. You just didn’t know it! |
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