According to God's Plan

According to God’s Plan
by Sandra Regnerus

According to God’s Plan
by Sandra Regnerus

Sandy’s graduation from Illiana Christian High,
1960.

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Dedicated to my children, grand children and their
descendants who might like to know a bit about

their family background. Gratefully acknowledging
the help of Megan Hall Ault Regnerus, my dear
daughter-in-law, for her work in editing, and my

granddaughter, Desiree Willar Ault for preparing the
pictures and document for printing.

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FAMILY BACKGROUND
All families grow from combining with other families when a
marriage begins and a new unit is begun. We are not born in isola-
tion, but belong to several families represented by our parents and
grandparents.

Even so with me. Where I was born came about by decisions made
by my grandparents and parents. All of my grandparents came to
America, either on their own, or with their parents to America in
the first decade of the last Century: 1900 - 1910. All came single
and married people like them who had also emigrated from the
Netherlands to begin a new life in America. My father’s parents
were Gerarda Louise Vree, and John Van Deel. My Mother’s par-
ents were Agnes Bergsma and Andrew Spiekhout. I wish I knew
more about all of them. But I know more about my dad's parents
than my mom’s.

The Vrees came with their mother and seven children, the father
preceded them and earned enough for their passage. They com-
pleted their family with two more children. Grandma Louise was
the second child, the oldest girl of three, with six brothers. Grand-
pa John had about five or six sisters and one brother. As she had
helped her mother take care of five younger brothers, she was used
to telling them what to do. Grandpa, on the other hand, was used to
having his many older sisters tell him what to do. The pattern con-
tinued into their marriage, with Grandma calling the shots at home
and Grandpa never questioning. But he had his business where
he was boss, so she could rule the house. Why did they leave the
Netherlands? Probably both religious and economic reasons. They
were followers of Abraham Kuiper who had left the State Church
of the Netherlands, which had become liberal by questioning some
of the basic tenets of Christianity, and formed the Free Church
which reaffirmed the Reformed faith. It could have been that their
businesses were boycotted because they had left the State Church.

They first started a new life in the Chicago area, plying the trades

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they had learned from their families. The Van Deel family were
carpenters. Grandpa got a job doing carpentry on the big hotels go-
ing up in the city. Going for lunch with the crew, he couldn’t read
the English menu yet, and didn’t know what to order. He just wait-
ed for someone else to order and said in his brogue, “Same ting.”
When I knew him in his 60s to 80s, he still hadn’t mastered the
“th” sound, which does not occur in Dutch. I can still hear a line in
his meal-time prayers, “Tank you for your Word and help us to live
more and more according to dat Word.” Grandpa met Grandma
among the Dutch in Roseland. He had to take public transit to woo
her. He told of saying goodnight on the Vree’s front porch and run-
ning for the streetcar after seeing it in the distance. Sometime after
their marriage, they moved to La Verne, Minnesota, where other
members of his family farmed. They tried to farm because in the
Netherlands, farmers owned land and were considered higher class
than tradesmen. Dad was born in 1914, named Arendt in honor of
his paternal grandfather. It was informally changed to Arthur at the
suggestion of friends that they call him something more American.
By the time Art was 9, in 1923, farming prices had dropped very
low as a result of Europe recovering from World War I and com-
peting with American exports instead of buying them, so that they
began to be in debt. (Grandpa’s sister Dirkje married Jacob Over-
beek, and sister Klazina married his brother John and stayed there.
Many of their descendants live there to this day.) His older sister
Martha married Grandma’s brother William. They and other Vrees
lived in the Chicago area, and so they decided to relocate.

By this time, there were four children with another soon to be born.
In Chicago Grandma’s family could help them and John could find
another carpentry job. It was January. They all packed up in their
Model T Ford and headed east. No motels, but farm families took
them in at night. It took four days on snowy roads. Grandpa would
get to a town and ask how the roads were. The reply came, “You
can go east, but you can’t go west.” He answered that he had just
come from the west. With no snow plows, one can imagine it was

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tough. Life was still hard, with five children, especially having to
start over with the country still digging out of the Depression. Still,
they managed to send all five to Christian schools, 1-12. Part of the
Ladies Auxiliary, Grandma had an idea for “sunshine bags” to raise
money for the school. Each day the sun shone, the family would
put a penny in a small drawstring bag made from sewing scraps,
which would be collected at certain times. They were still doing
that when I went to Roseland Christian School.

ROSELAND
I was born in Roseland Community Hospital on August 9, 1942.
Roseland was a small area in Chicago about 4 square miles. In it
were four Christian Reformed Churches, three Reformed Churches
(all Dutch) and at the far end, St Willibrord’s, a Dutch Catholic
Church. I never even heard of this church until I had moved to
South Holland and was shopping with teenage friends on Michigan
Avenue. Some girls our age in Dutch costumes were passing out
flyers for a neighborhood fair their Catholic church was putting on.
We had never considered that there might be Dutch Catholics. So I
sometimes joke that I was born in a Dutch ghetto. “Enclave” might
be a better word. There were other ethic and religious groups in
Roseland, too. But we only associated with the Dutch.

Nevertheless, it was a quiet, safe place to live, and mother let us
play in ever increasing territories as we grew. We could walk to
either grandparents’ house at will and did with permission. We
walked almost everywhere, in a group of kids from our block
headed for school. We usually walked home with some of the same
kids, or with friends from our class. During the school year, we
were pretty busy and spent little time with neighborhood kids, but
all summer long we would play with the kids on our block. Yards
were small and fenced, so the group would play “Peggy move up”
baseball or skate along on chalk drawn paths in the street. Cars
would give us a chance to scatter and no one ever got hit by one.
The girls would sometimes play “house” or “school” on someone’s
front porch.

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As we got older, we would go to the Pumping station to swim for
free for an hour on “girls’’ days. The boys could go on Tues, Thur
and Sat., but they couldn’t wear bathing suits. We would also ride
our bike to a park with a picnic lunch and spend most of the day
there. Not all the parents would let their kids go. There was a small
shopping center on 103rd where we would be sent for errands and
where we would spend the small allowance we got for making our
bed and doing dishes, etc. Each store sold one sort of thing. Hi-
Low Foods had only canned goods. There was a butcher shop, pro-
duce, a bakery, a book, stationery and gift store, a hardware store, a
small clothing store and still another for sodas, ice cream novelties,
and stuff like that. Small world that it is, the drug store was owned
by the grandfather of my son’s wife. We live in Bozeman, Mon-
tana. There isn’t room to tell the details of how that all came about.
Shopping was quite an affair. All in cash, but you might have to go
to three or four, even five stores to fill your needs every week.

I have many memories of living with my grandparents before my
brother was born. My crib was in my parents’ room. My mom
would get up and make breakfast and pack lunches for my dad and
Grandpa. If I woke up and saw their bed was empty, I’d climb over
the rail and head for my grandma’s bed and snuggle with her for
a while. Mom later told me that she was recovering from surgery.
It was during the War, my uncles were in the Army and my aunts
had their own bedrooms upstairs as well. Aunt Lou worked at the
Pullman Bank, and Aunt Babe was in her last year of high school.
I was the darling of the whole family and thought I was important.
I was a very obedient child and Mom taught me never to touch
Grandma’s pretty things. We stayed with them almost until the war
ended and my brother was born April 7, 1945. FDR died when
Mom was in the hospital. Before they moved into the older home
they had bought, Dad and Grandpa John spent a day fixing things.
They were also watching me and my cousin Cynthia, a year or so
older than I, while our moms were packing my parents’ things to
move in. Cindy and I found a cigar box full of nails, screws and
washers of various sizes and threw one down a heat

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register. We found that they made neat noises, each one having a
different tone. The box was almost empty when Grandpa found
us and said “smear lop” and “far lop.” Grandpa always said those
words when he was upset. Years later I found they meant mop rag
and dirty rag.

When I was 4, I had scarlet fever. The doctor would visit me at
home. The house was quarantined for two weeks. I stayed in bed
day after day. Aunt Babe came over after church one Sunday with
my second cousins Roger and Eddie, and hoisted them up to my
window so that they could talk to me. When I could get up, Dad
showed me the huge collection of empty quart bottles on the back
porch that had accumulated because the milkman had not been
allowed to pick them up, only deliver milk.

When I was 5, I didn’t get to go to kindergarten until the second
semester because I was supposedly recuperating from the heart
murmur brought on by my scarlet fever. I liked school. Mom took
me out for a couple of weeks in the spring so that I could go with
her and her parents, G & G Spiekhout, to visit my Aunt Ann and
family to help with her third baby. I remember driving through
Pittsburgh and thinking how dark, smokey and dirty it was (steel
mills). We ate our packed lunch by the side of the road, rather than
seek out a restaurant. I don’t know if it took two or three days to
get to Patterson, New Jersey. I only remember one of the places we
stayed on the way. I knew we were going to see the Appalachian
Mountains. There were some tunnels we drove through, but I was
not very impressed by those hills, and I remember asking when
we were going to see the mountains and being told that we were
already in them. My Mom and her parents toured New York, but I
stayed home and played with my cousins, Sandra and Judy Hicks.
On the way home, Grandpa headed south. I remember touring the
White House with a Rose Room, and a Blue Room, a Green Room
and an Oval Office. I also remember going to a Civil War Battle-
field. Grandpa was the only one to get out of the car and he came
back with some honeysuckle. I had never smelled any flower so

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sweet before.

Summers were pretty much all the same with all the kids in the
neighborhood playing outside together from after breakfast un-
til the street lights or the lightning bugs came out. We only went
inside for lunch and supper, and maybe to go to the bathroom in
between. We’d roller skate along “paths” we had drawn on the
smooth tarred streets with chalk. Or we’d play move up baseball in
the street. Very few cars came by to disturb us on that side street.
Sometimes we’d play “school” or “house” on the front porch and
steps. When we could ride two wheeler bikes, Mom would let us
pack a lunch and go to Fernwood Park to play all day. There was
a huge sand box, a wading pool and swings, see-saws, and jungle
gyms to keep us busy all day until supper time. Usually it was just
my brother Jack and me as many of our friends’ parents wouldn’t
let them out of the neighborhood. The milk man had a horse-drawn
truck. Other trucks were the ice-man who would come to the back
door and bring a huge block of dripping ice to the ice-box in the
kitchen. Once a week a produce truck would come with fresh
vegetables. The housewives in their cotton dresses would climb in
and weigh their things in a basket scale hanging from the ceiling of
the truck. Every now and then, someone would push a cart with a
bell down the street, and the women would come out with knives
to be sharpened. But, the “ragsoliron” man had to use the alley and
holler, “Rags, Old Iron’’ and buy old stuff to be recycled. Before
we had a small swing set next to the garage, Dad would plant a
vegetable garden there. I remember putting the bean seeds in holes
that Dad made by pressing the handle of the rake about two inches
into the ground. I still love to raise my own veggies.

There were a couple of empty lots that we played in. They were
called “prairies.” We dug a fort into the ground in one of them, but
never did figure out what to do for the roof. The seats were just dirt
we didn’t dig out. Another prairie had a ditch in it that we called a
creek and pretended we were settlers living next to the “forest” of
small saplings that had sprung up.

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For quite a few years we did not have a car. Dad and I would
walk to church cutting through a yard on 103rd street which was
a through street that went continuously from Wentworth to State
Street. Nobody seemed to care that you went through their yard.
Just stay on the sidewalk and close the gate. When it rained or
snowed, Grandpa would pick us up in his red Ford coupe. Later,
Dad bought an old ‘37 Chevy that was blue, oxidized to purple,
with running boards and a hole rusted in the floor on the driver’s
side. In the fall of 1948, he got a 1949 green Plymouth! But,
before we even got a car, dad had to replace the water heater. He
pulled me in my red wagon to the big hardware store on 104th and
Michigan Avenue. On the way home, he had me “help” by walk-
ing behind the wagon with a hand on the water heater so that it
wouldn’t fall off the wagon.

Being the oldest, I remember when all my siblings were born. My
parents proudly showed off Jack, born April 7, 1945 (the week
FDR died), Dad was wearing a suit and his fedora, and Mom
her muskrat fur coat. Jack was a handful. Grandma Van kind of
thought mom was lax because he wasn’t potty trained at age 2
1/2. When Mom left Jack with her while we went to New Jersey,
Grandma saw her chance to remedy that. But when we got back,
they were eating dinner and Jack was playing in the back yard
because they couldn’t get him to sit at the table. Once Mom let him
play with his trike outside after a rain. I looked out the window to
see him riding through the huge puddle in the front of the house
wearing only a t-shirt, with his muddy, wet pants lying in the grass.

Sharon was born on November 22, 1948, around Thanksgiving
Day. Mom and Dad said that they were going Christmas shopping
in downtown Chicago. I was to go to Grandma’s house and they
would pick me up when they got home. Only they didn’t come,
and I stayed for dinner. Then Dad called on the phone and told me
that I had a new sister. I was a bit confused, as I didn’t think you
could buy babies in the stores. Sharon was a happy baby, always
laughing and smiling. Jack and I loved to entertain her. She had a

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table to sit in so that her toys could be on it. When she outgrew it,
there was a top to put over the seat and it became a table for kids to
sit around to play.

Roger was born on February 10, 1952. In those days, parents didn’t
tell kids that a baby was coming, and we were so naive that we
didn’t know one was coming. However, Jack did tell me he thought
Mom was getting fat. Being 9 ½, I got to help Mom a lot with Rog-
er. We still lived in Roseland, but we soon moved into a house that
my Dad’s business built in May of 1953 in South Holland.

SOUTH HOLLAND
At the end of May, Jack and I had to stay with my dad’s sister
Louise and her husband Cal Oostman until June 22 in order to
finish out the school year. The house was not finished inside. Mom
was painting the walls, and finishing the woodwork and cupboards
with Grandpa Spiekhout as a mentor. I remember helping her by
sanding cabinet doors. I also helped by doing much of the iron-
ing. Roger was toddling around wearing starched bibbed onesies
and I hated ironing those as they were hard to fit around the iron-
ing board. But, he was cute and sweet, and it was worth it. Later
that summer, Grandpa Spiekhout was very ill with what he at first
thought was his sciatica acting up, but it proved to be spinal men-
ingitis. It was so advanced and medicine so lacking, that he died
after being in Michael Reese Hospital for six weeks. Mom and Dad
would often go there after supper, down in Chicago, and not come
home until midnight or later, long after we were all asleep. One
day the neighbor across the street remarked that Roger must have
given me a hard time the night before, crying so long as he did.
Well, I had slept through all of it.

Grandpa died just before Labor Day. My Jersey cousins came out
on the plane with their mom for the funeral. Sandra Jean, Judy and
I spent Labor Day weekend in Evergreen Park with my Aunt Grace
and Uncle John Van Deel. We had a great time. That was the last

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time in my childhood that I saw them. (I saw her briefly after Lou
and I were married. She and her young family were moving and
stopped for a few days at my parents’ house. We had come home
from Hudsonville for the weekend. We didn’t meet again until
April, 2021, when Sharon and I visited friends in Boynton Beach,
Florida where Sandi was also living. Judy had disappeared from
the scene, and Sandi didn’t know where she was because Judy
didn’t want her to know.) But, the funeral was a tearful time. All
the cousins had really loved him. He was stern when you misbe-
haved, but he was fun otherwise. Grandpa had been a very strong
man. Earlier that summer he had lifted both Jack and me off the
ground, one with each arm.

I had to start sixth grade in a new school a few days later than the
others because of Grandpa’s funeral. I was the new girl and found
it easier to make friends than I had had in grades 1-5. School was
directly behind our house and didn’t start until 9:30 and went till
4:00. But we finished for the summer a month earlier than the old
school in the city. Junior high was a good time in my life. I got
a lot of baby-sitting jobs at $.50 an hour, even if there were four
children and you were expected to leave the house tidied. My dad
would also have odd jobs for Jack and me to do cleaning up around
job sites. Both of our grandparents lived within walking distance
and they often had us clean windows or rake leaves for pocket
money. My mom’s three brothers also moved to South Holland
and over the next decade, so did Uncle Hank and Aunt Lou on my
Dad’s side as well as my Aunt Jewel. In school I got good grades,
had lots of friends and was elected class president of the eighth
grade. We did some class projects, had some chapels, raised some
money for a class trip, etc. I had a crush on the vice president, one
of the smartest boys in the class. Nothing ever came of it. One
duty of the class president was to keep order whenever our teacher,
also the principal, was called out to troubleshoot something. That
may have led to my first teaching job as Mr. William Vander Vliet
became the principal of Unity Christian High in Hudsonville where
I began teaching.

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Only a few other things stand out about those three years. I broke
my ankle on the jungle gym in the spring of sixth grade. Only a
hairline crack, but I had to be on crutches for six weeks anyway.
I was taking piano lessons then and got out of class to walk from
school to Andy Vogel’s house, about one or two blocks away. I had
to somehow carry my music books with me. My way passed my
dad’s building and his client noticed me and remarked about “that
poor girl.” Dad did not mention that I was his daughter. I also had
to wear those crutches all through the Science and Industry Build-
ing when our class went there for our field trip. I got blisters on
my hands that day. I also had the misfortune of coming down with
Scarlet Fever (again) the day after the eighth grade trip to Spring-
field to see the capitol, Abe Lincoln’s home and the park which
replicated the village where he had had a general store and gone
bankrupt. I barely recovered in time for graduation where I had to
make the Salutatorian speech. I don’t remember when I took my
exams, or whether I got to skip them.

I didn’t get in trouble often, but when I did, I certainly didn’t want
my parents to know about it. There was a skating pond in the park
beside an old barn with a room where we could warm up, put our
skates on and off and keep our street shoes or boots. There was
an open window in the second story into which several kids were
throwing snowballs. I picked up a chunk of snow, thought better
of it, and threw it aside. Klutz that I was, it broke the window of
the warming house. I stayed outside after that, but when the police
came on his nightly round, he made inquiries about the broken
window. I decided I’d better fess up. He was kind, but said that I
should go to the city office next week and pay for the window. I
did. Since Dad got around town, he heard about it. He told me that
he was proud that I owned up to what I did and took care of it like
a grown up.

During high school, kids changed from goof-offs to people ready
to get married, go off to college, or to begin their life’s work. As a
freshman, I was a goof-off, earning over 13 detentions. I learned

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to make sarcastic remarks about my teachers to get the other kids
laughing. I also picked up all the snarky sayings that were part of
the high school repertoire of put downs. Somehow, we ended up
in a group of 16 or so girls, about half from Highland, IN, and half
from South Holland, IL. My lifelong friend, Lynne Terpstra was
from Highland. Somehow, we did not hang around the Lansing, IL
kids, early on. As high school went on, I was in every club I had
any interest in whatsoever. I enjoyed Glee Club, but flubbed so
miserably in my choir try-out that the pianist laughed at my sour
notes. I knew I had no chance of making it. In my Freshman year, I
was in student council; junior year I joined the Echo (school paper
staff) and annual staff my senior year; those activities had definite
meetings and work. Future Teachers Club and National Honor
Society were two others I was in, but, other than having our group
pictures in the annual, I can’t remember what we ever did.

I settled down for a few reasons in my sophomore year. I had a job
after school and Saturday mornings as a waitress/dishwasher in the
little diner on the main street in South Holland. Since Illiana began
at 7:50 a.m. and ended at 2:40 p.m., the school bus could drop me
off at 3:00 to work until close, around 8:00. I usually ate dinner
there and had so many hamburgers that they lost their appeal. I
also had been challenged by Mr. Van Beek, not only my principal,
but one of my dad’s beloved teachers and basketball coach. The
day the first report cards came out, I was called to his office. As I
went, I tried to figure out what I had done to get in trouble. I was
surprised to learn that I had earned straight A’s in all my subjects.
He said that that was an accomplishment and he wanted me to keep
it up.

I also had a steady boyfriend. Toward the end of my freshman year,
he had asked me out. He said he’d noticed me as I introduced a
chapel speaker (one of the things the student council did). I didn’t
want to be grounded and have to stay home. I really liked Tom
Hoekstra a lot and it was great to be able to have a date for basket-
ball games and other school functions. There was only one thing

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wrong. He was so very nice, maybe insecure, that he looked to me
to make all the decisions and would do anything I wanted to do. I
could see that, by being strong willed and always wanting my own
way and insisting that I was always right, I would hen-peck the
poor man to death. I tried breaking up with him several times, but
somehow we kept getting together again. When I was not seeing
Tom, I dated a few other boys a few times each, but I never clicked
with any of them. They were guys who I could be friends with and
nothing more. Tom dated several girls from our circles, married a
non-Dutch girl, had three wives and only one daughter. He did very
well in his job. He had majored in ecology before it was a “thing,”
got in on the ground floor, becoming supervisor of all of the Rocky
Mountain National Forests.

In my junior year, the social circles slowly changed, partly due to
class schedules, and partly due to changing interests. Those of us
planning to go to college gradually had less and less in common
with those who would be getting into the workforce or getting mar-
ried after high school. It was really noticeable in the last semester
of senior year when some girls read the Bride’s magazine in study
hall, and some of us were trying to decide on our majors by read-
ing the college catalogs.

My final year began with the birth of David, our youngest sibling.
How he delighted all of us. Mom would get him ready for the day
before we got up and strap him to the changing table in a corner of
the dinette. As each of us came to get breakfast, we would talk to
him and tickle him. Perhaps that is why he became the most out-
going, confident of all of us. After that, senior year went by all too
slowly. I think I had two jobs. One was checking at the Jewel Food
store about three blocks from home by cutting through yards. Yes,
no car, must walk. The other job was cleaning offices in a building
that my dad built and owned. Since Tom was off to Purdue, I dated
a few boys from my class in a social sort of way. I was not attract-
ed to any of them in a serious way, and I never had a clue that any
of them wanted to get serious. On the academic side, I was only

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fourth in my class because I had so many other interests. I had to
do the class history and read it at the senior banquet. The first two
highest got a scholarship to Calvin, and I was only able to get a
scholarship to Trinity, where I had not wanted to go. It paid half of
my tuition. Trinity was close enough to commute and stay at home.
I had to pay the other $250.00 for tuition and for my books. I was
so disappointed that I would have to wait two more years to go to
Calvin that I wanted to cry. Because I didn’t want anyone to hear
me sobbing, I took a shower in the downstairs laundry room and
cried my heart out. After that, I was resigned to it. It really helped
to save on room and board for two years. I don’t remember much
else senior year. I just wanted it to be over. But it was at Trinity
that I met the love of my life, a guy who could keep me from be-
coming the witch I knew was lurking inside of me.

THE COLLEGE YEARS AND LOU
Late that summer, I was checking at Jewel and talking to some-
one I knew who had asked where I was going to college. When I
replied, “Trinity”, the customer in line behind her said, “My son
goes to Trinity College”. I asked her name, which was unfamiliar
to me and I had to ask her three times. As she left, I thought to
myself that I was glad that I did not have a hard name like that:
REGNERUS. God has a sense of irony.

The kids from South Holland had formed a carpool to drive to
Trinity, a 45 minute drive. I knew all of the boys from Illiana, but
a boy I did not know who had gone to Chicago Christian High,
dropped out because he did not want a girl in the carpool. His
name: Louis Regnerus. Ironic. When I met him, I thought he was
really cool. He was pretty good looking with an air of confidence
that said that he knew what he wanted and was going to go after
it. By October, he found it quite expensive to drive by himself,
and his mom needed her car. He asked to join that carpool. We all
agreed since there were four of us and, with five, we could each
take one day and be done with it. By the end of October, Lou and

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I were dating. When Tom Hoekstra came for Thanksgiving break, I
saw him so that I could return his senior picture and anything else I
had had of his. I never looked back. Lou had my heart forever. He
was a romantic.

Once early on, he wanted to go on a date, but I was baby-sitting
that night for Don and Marion Spiekhout. He sent over a pizza so
large that I called him over to help me eat it. We were separated
several times during our courtship trying to maintain jobs and our
education. I spent two summers in summer school at Calvin trying
to graduate in 3 ½ years. Another summer Lou stayed in Grand
Rapids to work for a window company. He went to Calvin his
junior year, which was my sophomore year. When I went to Calvin
as a junior, he was somewhere between a junior and a senior and
had three semesters left. We were both set to graduate in January of
1964. We were planning to marry in June of 1964. My room-mate
Joyce Potts and I decided to buy a wedding gown together. During
Christmas break, 1963, we went to the gown shops on 63rd street
which always had clearance sales then. We each paid $125.00 for
our share of a beautiful dress, the special hoop skirt for the bell
shaped skirt, and one alteration.

However, the draft board notified Lou that his student deferments
had run out and he had to report for his induction medical exam-
ination on February 2, 1964. We immediately decided that neither
of us wanted to take the chance of his going to Viet Nam. Kennedy
had signed a law that married men were exempt from the draft.
So we decided to get married on January 25, after exams. When
we told my parents, Mom’s first question was, “Why?” When we
explained, she was fine with it. We left the details of planning the
wedding up to her with the instructions to keep it simple. My only
sister, Sharon, would be my only attendant, and would wear the
dress I had recently worn as a bridesmaid for my friend Lynn Terp-
stra Smit in November. Cousin Pete Tuinstra would be Best Man,
and brothers Roger and Lester would be the ushers. So we went
back to school to prepare for our exams, and to find teaching jobs

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to start in January. The Lord was with us and everything fell into
place. I got a job teaching English to sophomores at Unity Chris-
tian High in Hudsonville, Michigan. Remember my eighth grade
principal? Bill Vander Vliet was now the principal for Unity. Lou
got a job teaching sixth grade in Muskegon, Michigan. We got a
furnished apartment above a furniture store on Grandville Ave.
in Grand Rapids. I was able to get to Unity in a carpool of four
teachers who lived in Grand Rapids, and were driving right past
our apartment. Only God could have orchestrated that. Unless you
believe it was just a lucky coincidence. All in a month! Only five
of the 16 finishing their teaching programs that January had been
able to find teaching jobs at that time.

OUR WEDDING and TEACHING AT UNITY
So began one of the most momentous, busy weeks of my life.
I finished my last exam on Friday, we drove home to have the
wedding rehearsal and dinner that evening, got married Saturday
afternoon, drove to a motel for the night, went to our apartment
the next morning, and got the things from our separate apartments.
I had two days grace to begin teaching. Monday, my brother Jack
drove our parents’ station wagon up to our apartment with all our
wedding presents; we stocked our apartment with food. Tuesday I
got ready to teach on Wednesday. We were so broke that we used
money from our wedding presents to pay the minister, pay our first
month’s rent and buy some food. All very Providential.

Teaching was exhilarating. It was also challenging, scary and lots
of hard work. Here I was, still 21, trying to teach 185 sophomores
who were only 5 or 6 years younger than I, a subject many of them
were sick and tired of. That first semester was speech, composi-
tion and grammar. Whenever I would assign an essay, I had 185 to
correct. I required them to report on a book from a prescribed list
every six week grading period. I had not read every book on the
list myself, nor did I have time to read the ones I had not read. I
wonder how many of them fudged their reports. The second semes-
ter was devoted to the five major genres of literature and how to

20

read them. How is poetry different from prose and how do you un-
derstand it when it is not literal? How is a non-fiction story differ-
ent from a short story? What is the author trying to tell you about
life? Do you agree, as a Christian, with her view of life?

On tests, I would take a characteristic line from a selection and
have them guess the title and the author. They thought it was not
important to know who wrote it. But, I told them it would help
them to find other works they would enjoy and to avoid authors
they did not like. There was one student in particular that kept me
on my toes asking questions I sometimes couldn’t answer. Known
as Butch Byker then, he went on to make a fortune or two. Later,
he became President Gaylen Byker of Calvin College. His brother
Harlan, a student of Lou’s in junior high, invented the coating on
rear-view mirrors so that they would not reflect the bright lights of
the car behind you, which would be blinding at times. If you are
younger than 60, you don’t even know what that is like. Harlan
also had something to do with transitional lenses for glasses that
get darker with bright lights. His latest invention is treating glass
that will shade buildings from the heat of the hot summer sun, and
let in more passive solar energy in winter. While costly to install,
the savings in HVAC bills are enormous.

Because I had 185 students, I had to teach the same preparation
five times. Yes, my classes averaged 37. Or was that six classes
of about 31 students each? No, it was five classes because I had
a preparation period where I could run off worksheets, tests, and
other tasks. It became boring and tedious to teach the same thing
so many times in a row. We had a unique schedule. There were five
class periods each day, but every student had six different assigned
things. Each subject met for 55 minutes four times a week, allow-
ing kids to start their homework and discover if they needed to ask
questions while the teacher was there. The 25th slot was reserved
for pep rallies, special concerts, and other programs. Whenever
there was an abbreviated week, things were switched around.

21

Usually, the students are unsettled in the last class before a holiday.
This particular class, though, was being unusually well-behaved
and responsive. Then I thought that Al had said the same thing yes-
terday. Yes, and Karen definitely answered that question yesterday
as well. I strolled over to my desk to check the weekly schedule, I
HAD taught them the same lesson yesterday. What should I do?
I had nothing up my sleeve as I had not taught before, so I went
along with them. At the end, I told them that they should do very
well on the test as they had had this same lesson twice. That was
definitely my most embarrassing teaching experience ever. The
next two years that I taught at Unity, I staggered the units so that I
never had to teach the same lesson all day long.

In June of 1964, we moved to a triplex in Hudsonville. Norm and
Crystal Unema lived in the main house. There were two apartments
attached to it, and we lived in the one at ground level. It is true that
teaching, being the housewife of a tiny apartment and learning to
cook efficiently for two, took most of my waking hours. Thank
goodness for the Sabbath, which we celebrated on Sunday. I tried
to stay away from schoolwork then. We also did some fun things
on Saturdays. I would get my hair done every week in an updo in
an effort to look more mature than I was. We made friends in the
community, becoming members in Hillcrest Christian Reformed
Church. Lou became a member of the Junior Chamber of Com-
merce, even becoming president. One of their projects, dreamed
up by Bob Plekker, a dentist who went to Hillcrest, was sending
care packages to soldiers in Viet Nam. Our landlords, the Unema’s,
“adopted” us so that we were invited to go sailing with them, went
to several of the many parties they had, and were surrogate aunt
and uncle to their three lovely children. One day Lou noticed their
son Rod crying while mowing the lawn. Lou went to find out what
was wrong. He replied, “My dad says that if you don’t work, you
can’t eat.” We were part of a circle that would get together after
the Sunday evening worship and have a meal. I remember how I
would plan those meals when it was our turn to host. I thought we
would live in Western Michigan for the long term.

22

But Lou had other ideas. He was teaching seventh grade science
and desperately wanted to teach high school biology. His tender
male ego was bruised by the fact that I made $600.00 more a year
because I taught high school. (4,200 vs 3,600: rent 70/month.)

Then Harlan Kredit who taught biology at Unity got a job teaching
in his home town in Lynden, WA. When Lou was turned down for
the position, we began to send out resumes to about 50 schools
in the National Union of Christian Schools. Long story short,
we were invited to Montana to interview at Manhattan Christian
school. Will Byker, part of the Byker family from Hudsonville that
we knew well, and his wife, Mary Jane, sister to Crystal Unema,
invited us to stay with them for the week. He was the principal
at MCHS. We came out to Churchill on the train during Spring
Break. That was an adventure in itself. We enjoyed the dome car,
the club car and eating breakfast on the train. Lou had never been
west of the Mississippi.

When we got to the Dakotas, we saw antelope and other animals.
Along the Yellowstone River, an eagle flew alongside the train for
a while. We could even see its eye. Will and Jane have the gift of
hospitality and we thoroughly enjoyed our time with them. They
took us up to Bridger Bowl, as well as down the Gallatin Canyon
for drives. But once they took Lou to fish up the Madison, he was
hooked and Will had landed a biology teacher and an English
teacher for the high school. It didn’t seem to matter that the salaries
were even lower than Hudsonville. We saw the apartment that the
school had built so that teachers had low-cost housing. There were
four units in it and those that lived there became very close. It was
a very short walk to the school, so the car could stay parked most
of the time. It might cost less to live there. And it certainly was
beautiful to us flat-landers.

MONTANA
When school was dismissed for the summer, a United Van line
came and we packed our things into it. Since it wasn’t a full load,

23

they would deliver it any time they were going to Montana. They
would deliver them to the apartment we would be living in. We
were planning to spend the summer in South Holland with my
parents. I would work in the laundromat so that my mom and aunts
wouldn’t have to, and Lou would be on one of my dad’s carpenter
crews. I don’t recall getting paid, but that’s okay since we didn’t
pay anything for our two month stay. We enjoyed that summer. I
studied the road atlas to see how many attractions we could see
that were not very far out of our way. But now, I can’t remember
which way we went or what we did see. I do remember that motel
vacancies were easy to find and a room cost between $5.00 and
$8.00 a night. Motel Six and Super Eight were named that because,
at first, that is what you paid to stay. The first place we remember
stopping in Denver was to visit Ann and Marion Camping, cousins
of my father whom I had met when my grandparents had taken
me out west when I was 12. I was then 24. We drove from there
through Wyoming and spent the night in either Caspar or Sheridan.

I remember we ordered steak for dinner since it was so reason-
able and Lou made some crack about wanting the meat rare: “Just
wound it up and drive it in,” he said. We had thought that we could
make it to Churchill the next night, but we took our time at the
Little Bighorn Battlefield. The interstate was not complete so that
we had to slow down for every little burg. Top speed was 55 or 60.
About six or seven, there was a severe thunderstorm, and we decid-
ed to eat at Frye’s Cafe and stay at the motel near it in Big Timber.
We decided it would be better to get to our place in daylight when
we were fresh, rather than tired and hungry in the dark. Besides,
the hilly road to Churchill from Bozeman was tricky in the daylight
and scary at night if you didn’t know it. We had no food and no
bed set up. Our things had just been dumped there by the movers
and everything was in boxes. It was a wise decision.

Soon after we settled in, my parents and Roger and David came
and we went to Yellowstone on an overnight trip. We stayed in the
bare bones camper cabins built in about the 1920s. There were

24

about 200 of them in the Old Faithful area. They had a couple of
beds, one light bulb and a cold water sink. There was a cast iron
stove with wood, kindling and matches to heat them. The toilets
were in buildings that served about 20 cabins. The garbage cans
by the bathrooms were the regular hardware store tin variety with
round lids. That night, Dad came back from the bathroom all excit-
ed. He had thought he saw a person putting garbage in one, but as
he neared, it was a black bear on his hind legs trying to find what
he smelled inside. Feeding the bears from our car was great fun,
and not forbidden then. We easily saw 13 bears close to the road.
But Dave always claimed that he saw one more than everyone else
saw. None of us had ever been to a national park before. It was an
adventure. I thought we’d live out there for a couple of years, but it
lasted the rest of our lives.

Before school began the day after Labor Day, four of the teaching
couples went to Yellowstone for the weekend. Will and Jane Byker
had a trailer, and the Vander Kooi’s with their two young had a
pick-up camper. Altena’s and we slept in our cars with their roomy
bench seats, front and back. We had a fabulous time. We even got
a bonus trip down and then up Beartooth Pass. We had missed the
sign for our campground which was just a little over the crest of
the peak, and went all the way to the bottom looking in vain for it.
It was much easier to find the campground on the way up. I think
we had the campground all to ourselves, the tourists having had
to get home for the school year. That weekend was a good way to
bond with new faculty. Teaching seemed a bit easier than it had
been in Hudsonville, as I got to teach three different preparations
and had far fewer students. I got to teach sophomores and juniors.
And a history class to the sophs. The juniors were super. At least
five teachers and four CRC ministers came out of that class of 42,
which I had in two sessions. Classes had 25 or fewer students. I
challenged several of them privately to go to college, something
that they later told me they would not have done, had I not chal-
lenged them. I also got to direct the senior class play, which I con-
tinued to do for several years after I had our children. Being in

25

the play was a life changing experience for some who gained con-
fidence in themselves by doing well and receiving praise from the
community.

Lou taught biology for one year only because Bruce Hulst had
taken a year to get a masters in Salt Lake with the provision that
his job would be there a year later. Lou realized then that he did
not have the math background and ability to ever get a masters in
biology. The plan was that we would start our family, I would be
a stay-at-home mom and Lou would teach my English and history
classes. By late November, we were pregnant. We were happy to
tell the relatives when we went home at Christmas. It was a good
thing that I had no morning sickness, and felt well enough to teach
that year, although I often came home rather tired.

Sometime that year, Alice and Ivan Groothuis found another apart-
ment, and we moved from a basement apartment to their upstairs
one, which was roomier and had a view of the Spanish Peaks. Lisa
was born on July 31, of 1967. Lou was now teaching the English
and history I had taught. We lived in the teacherage for two more
years, and had two more children. We had conceived in Decem-
ber after Lisa was born. But, as I was still nursing her, I had no
symptoms. I didn’t realize we were pregnant until the fifth month.
Shawn Louis was born on September 2, Labor Day, 1968. We had
been in South Holland for June and July, visiting and Lou working
for John Van Deel and Sons. I sensed that the baby was not healthy
because it was so lethargic compared to Lisa, and told Lou’s dad
when we left for Montana that the baby might not make it. The
baby was blue when he was born, and it took quite a few spankings
to get him to breathe. The doctor denied that anything was wrong
with him. But there was.

They put him in an isolette the next day, x-rayed his heart and
determined it was the right size and were encouraged. They did not
have MRI’s or anything that would have shown the inside of the
heart. Shawn Louis hardly had the strength to nurse. He got worse

26

and worse. In the old hospital on Lamme, there were wards, not
private rooms. I did not want my two or three roommates to have
to share my grief when they were elated with the birth of their own
babies. So, we took one last look at the baby, who could not leave
the isolette now, and went home.

Later that night, the hospital called that he had died. That was
Wednesday night. Our parents all flew out and stayed with us and
were there with us for the graveside funeral, which was Friday.
The community graciously provided a plot for the baby in their
cemetery. After the graveside service, my mom stayed for almost
two weeks. It was great having her there, and even greater that we
had Lisa, 13 months old, who was oblivious to what had happened,
and was always in a happy mood. By Christmas, we were preg-
nant again and Louis Shawn was born very healthy, indeed. But,
we were a little apprehensive until he was born. Lou, especially.
He had started a painting business, was going to MSU to work on
a masters and all the time worried that we might be bitterly disap-
pointed again. Louis Shawn was born September 15, 1969. Again,
our parents all came out, but I can’t imagine where they slept in
that two bedroom apartment.

In June of 1970, we moved to the house behind the coffee
shop-grocery combination across the street from the school.
Shawn learned to climb up the carpeted stairs to the bedrooms
there. But, before the year was over, Jim DeYoung had sold the
store and we had to move back to the original small downstairs
apartment with two small children. Thankfully, we were not there
for long.

THE SINNEMA RANCH
That summer, Darryl and Maris Vander Kooi moved to Sioux Cen-
ter, Iowa where Darryl was to teach English at Dordt College. We,
in turn, moved to an old ranch house on the Sinnema-Flikkema
place that they had vacated. It was nice to be in a house by our-
selves. The backyard was surrounded by a shelter belt of bushes,

27

deciduous and pine trees which kept out the wind and the dirt from
the fields. It was like a park. The variety of trees, together with
Camp Creek which flowed between the house and the pastures,
attracted lots of different birds. There were red-winged blackbirds,
blue birds, an occasional jay, hummingbirds, mourning doves,
robins, meadowlarks, red shafted flickers and even owls, in addi-
tion to the ubiquitous crows and magpies. Because there were old
farm buildings there that the Sinnemas did not use, we got to have
chickens and even a few pigs in places built for them long ago.
Every day I’d have to feed and water the chickens and collect the
eggs. Lou mainly took care of the pigs. But, one day they found
a hole in the dilapidated enclosure, and I had to try to find them. I
hastily walked through the sheltered yard, when I heard them snort.
They were hunkered down in the irrigation ditch between the rows
of trees. It was almost as if they were snickering at me for having
missed them. Somehow, I got them to go back in their pen. Good
thing there were only two of them. I didn’t mind tending the chick-
ens in the summer, but in the winter, it got very cold and I’d have
to put boots on to get through the snow and really bundle up. One
morning it was so cold that I found a hen frozen to death in her
cubby hole. I don’t know how we kept the water from freezing. We
finally had to butcher and can those old hens. Half the jars didn’t
seal. I called the county extension for advice. They said to bone the
meat and then re-can it. I know that that chicken was very tender
and great to take on camping trips.

There were some dangers living on that farm with the creek and
the pasture near the house where they kept a big bull. One chilly
day, Shawn saw the bull, snorting steam and pawing at the dirt and
exclaimed, “If I went in there, that bull would eat me up!” I agreed.
Another time he told me that a kid could get drowned in the creek.
Smart boy.

I really missed Jane Byker, who had moved when Will got a job as
principal at Illiana Christian where I had gone. I missed Maris, as
well. Both of them had become such close friends that they were

28

like sisters to me. It was those years on the ranch that we began to
get close to Larry and Janet Senti, who lived where the pavement
ended on Camp Creek road 3 miles away. Barely three, Shawn
stayed with them in 1972 when Lynelle was born on September 13.
I had baked a birthday cake decorated with a Suburban like we had
then for him before I went to the hospital. I put it in a Tupperware
cake taker and put it in the freezer. Later he remembered that I had
packed it in his suitcase. (I’m sure that my memory has taken a
few wrong turns along the way in this saga as well.) We stayed at
the ranch until Lynelle was almost two, having lived there for three
years. However, living there made such an impression on him that
Shawn would tell college friends that he had grown up on a ranch
in Montana.

We also met Tanya and Bern Ostema and Thora and Fred Decker
those ranch years. We would get to be good friends. The Ostemas
had four kids, the last two were our kids’ age. Deckers had Hol-
ly, a year younger than Lisa, and Paul, about a year younger than
Shawn.

We had a rather harrowing experience on the ranch one night.
There was an old red barn near the creek where they kept a bull
from time to time. It was spring; I was again directing the play and
the farmers were getting ready to plant. As I left the yard to pick up
the senior girl who baby-sat while I led rehearsals, Dick C. Flikke-
ma was driving into the barn with a truck loaded with seed to plant
the next morning. When we were heading back home, I saw black
smoke billowing from what looked to be our house. I couldn’t
drive fast enough down that gravel road. It was not the house. It
was the barn! The fire truck was there, but Chet told them to let the
barn burn down so that they would not have to tear it down. It was
too far gone to ever be of use. The bull had managed to escape, but
the truck and seed were a total loss. Lou had taken the kids in their
pajamas down to see the fire at a safe distance. The next day, Lisa
would give a detailed report to her kindergarten class. Her teacher
told me about it later, amazed that she was such a good

29

story teller. She was also such an expressive reader that she was
made narrator of a program in first grade. I loved reading to my
classes and especially to my own children with them on my lap.
Without my knowing it, they all knew how to read when they went
to school.

Lou made a play house on the ranch with the foundation of the old
outhouse as its base. It was made of the trimmed ends of the logs
to remove the bark which the sawmill in Gallatin Gateway gave
away. They enjoyed playing in it, but when we moved, we had a
chance to sell it to the people who needed it to work on the ranch.
We asked the kids if they wanted to keep it, or have a new swing
set when we moved to the home we had bought on Churchill. They
opted for the swing set.

OUR HOME ON CHURCHILL
The greatest thing about living in Churchill was that the kids had
playmates. The Fennema family had three; Kooima four; Walhof
had three and we had three. All four houses were in a row with
large backyards and no fences. They freely roamed there all day.
I don’t think that they were even aware how much the mothers
inside the homes knew what was going on. I don’t recall any fights
between the children or even name calling. But if anything did go
wrong, a mother was there to help. The kids could have walked to
school, but the buses were going by and it was much safer to have
them on the bus for that distance as, at first, there were no side-
walks. Later, the men got together, the lumber yard let us borrow
the forms for the sidewalks, and the way was leveled with a bed of
sand. In came the cement truck to pour us a walk. I do not know
who smoothed it. When it was cured, we took the barriers away
and the kids were ready with a parade of bikes and trikes. It was
fun because the homes were on a gentle slope and they could coast
down the sidewalk. We had a garden and there was a row of rasp-
berries along the back fence. We really enjoyed that house.

We had barely been in that house for two years when we got a

30

letter from the Christian Reformed Board of Missions asking if we
were still interested in going to Nigeria. When we were first mar-
ried, we had wanted to go, but their civil war was in progress mak-
ing it inadvisable to send new missionaries. We talked and prayed
about it and decided that we would answer the call. It was now,
or probably never. During spring break we flew to Sioux Center,
IA, to meet Bill Van Tol, the Nigerian Mission Advisor who had
been on the field himself for many years. He interviewed us and
gave preliminary approval before we would have to meet the larger
staff in Grand Rapids. We stayed overnight with Darryl and Maris
Vander Kooi then. We interviewed formally later at CRC Head-
quarters at some point in time.

NIGERIA
There was lots to do before we went to Nigeria. A list of shots for
the whole family. Gathering clothes for the kids (who would grow)
for three years. Girls could only wear dresses. We needed lots of
summer dresses. They had a second-hand shop in Churchill that
had kids clothes where we found all we needed. We needed our
pressure canner, and jars for canning, even though we didn’t know
what we could preserve there. Pillows, linens, sewing machine,
patterns and notions, some toys, durable dishes, a set of pans.
The mission recommended we pack those things in barrels to be
shipped ahead of us. Lou found 10 barrels with lids, cleaned them
up and spray-painted them white. I packed them. We filled only
three. Somebody wanted barrels, but we don’t really remember
how we got rid of the rest. Sandy and Bud Visser were driving a
pick-up to Grand Rapids, and offered to bring our filled, sealed
barrels to the CRC headquarters so that the mission could ship
them to Nigeria. We had to use up all our food or give it away.
I decided to have a garage-bake sale to get rid of things the kids
would not need when we got back. I baked for three days straight.
I still remember someone buying Shawn’s rocking horse for his
nephew. We got rid of everything. It was made easier because the
community knew that we were leaving for the mission field and

31

wanted to help us. We made enough to buy a good camera by get-
ting rid of stuff that we couldn’t take and wouldn’t need.

We leased our house out for two years and stuffed our furniture
into one room in the basement and nailed the door shut. We flew to
Chicago on Lisa’s birthday, July 31, 1976. Our plan was to spend a
couple weeks visiting and saying goodbye to family before we left
in September. Lou and I also had to spend a week at the mission
headquarters for orientation to Nigerian life. We learned a lot that
week and fine-tuned the list of things we needed to take. I remem-
ber making Lou beige cotton pants, a shirt, suit jacket, and a tie
that could be washed and would be comfortable in the heat. They
had said that it was important to dress like a professional in any
dealings he would have with the Nigerian officials. Again, there
was a list of sundries and OTC’s that we might need. The boarding
school had requirements. I had taken care of the worst by getting
labels and sewing them in every stitch of clothes Lisa and Shawn
would need in boarding school in the stuff we packed in the bar-
rels. Even socks so they would come back to them from the laun-
dry. We thought we were ready to go. However, the Lord had other
plans: our visas did not come. Without them, and the plane tickets
the Nigerians had promised, we could not move forward. Day af-
ter day we searched the mail for them. Soon it was time for school.
What should we do?

Calvin Christian Elementary listened to our story and took Lisa
and Shawn on a temporary basis. Major consideration provided.
My parents graciously let all five of us stay in their almost emp-
ty nest. David was still at home in a bedroom in the basement. I
got a job as a waitress at the restaurant that was in the Van Deel’s
building on Route Six, where the laundromat had once been. Lou
worked with the carpentry crew. Yes, he had put basic tools in
those barrels, too. Sometime in October, the mission board called
with the news that we had to interview for our jobs. They would
send Stu and Mary Greydanus, part of the mission team known as
the Associate Missionaries, to pick us up on their way from Wheat-

32

ton, IL, to Toronto at the Nigerian Embassy. They had dinner at my
parents’ house and then we drove all night in time to freshen up
and change clothes for the interview. I guess we thought it was a
face-saving charade, because we did not doubt that we all would be
hired.

Stu and Mary had planned to make a mini-holiday out of the trip
and we enjoyed it to the max. That afternoon we went to the ROM,
Royal Ontario Museum. We spent the night at a retired couple’s
home who had only recently married. Stu and Mary had met her in
Japan where they had been teachers. They were so cute, so happy
to have found a mate after a long life as singles. We slept on fu-
tons. The next day we crossed the bridge to Buffalo, NY, and saw
Niagara Falls, the only time we were ever there.

Even then, no visas and no plane tickets. Finally we got a call from
a very British voice who was going to make arrangements for our
travels. Somehow, December 16 was the day we were to be in Ni-
geria. Relatives and friends had given us what our preacher son-in-
law calls a “holy handshake.” It’s cash casually given because you
are doing the Lord’s work. We had several hundred dollars given
with instructions to spend a day in England. We decided to leave
on December 6, 1976. We would start teaching in January, having
had a whole semester pass. Looking back, I am thankful that the
Lord gave us and our children, especially, time to get to know the
extended family. We thought that we were giving up seeing our
family for two years. He gave us four full months with them. And
here He had given us an all-expense paid 10 day trip to England,
the unspoken dream of the English teachers that we were.

We had rented a car and booked a hotel with a travel agency. But,
after a taxi ride, we found ourselves in a crowded train station.
There was no way we were going to find our way in the twisting
streets of London, driving on the “wrong” side of the streets, not
knowing where we were going. Even the taxi drivers carried a
thousand page book of maps on the front seat!

33

We looked up to see a kiosk advertising Thomas Cook Tours. I
got a couple brochures. Sure enough, they had bus tours going to
almost everything we had wanted to see. The bus would pick us
up at a certain spot at 8 every morning, provide a coffee stop in the
morning, lunch (unvaryingly fish and chips with peas) and tea at 5
o’clock (with sandwiches and sweets). Admission to all the ven-
ues was included. The cost was little more than the rental car was
supposed to cost. Another God-send!

I don’t know exactly how many days we went with Thomas Cook
tours. We saw Westminster Cathedral, Big Ben, the Tower of
London with the crown jewels, the changing of the guard at Buck-
ingham Palace. Tours outside of London took us to Winchester
Cathedral, the most recently built, and a castle which a remnant
of the noble family was managing to keep by having guided tours
through it. The suits of armor looked like they were made for
young teenagers, (that is how small the people were back then.)
We also got to Stonehenge and Canterbury. After seeing the Ca-
thedral and the place where King Henry’s henchmen had slain the
archbishop, we left the tour and stayed the weekend in Canterbury.
We got there on Saturday. Somehow the tour bus drove slowly
down the narrow streets packed with people. Our inn dated to the
eighteenth century. December was definitely not the tourist season.
I don’t remember many people in that quaint and charming build-
ing. An older gentleman working for the inn took a shine to our
three tow-haired kids and obligingly took a ha’penny (no longer in
circulation, even then) from his pocket and played the free-stand-
ing, antique mechanical music box for them. Next morning we
heard a knock on the door and in came the maids with trays laden
for our breakfast in bed. If I ever felt like a “Lady” that was it.
We walked around a deserted town the next morning so we could
see the sights. I remember an old pillory where they would pun-
ish people whose public behavior was unacceptable. It was near a
creek. That afternoon I went to Matins at the Cathedral where after
a short message from the rector, the choir sang excerpts from the
Messiah. The kids stayed with Lou at the Inn. The next day we

34

went to Dover, visited the ancient military fort where the older
tour guide obviously enjoyed showing the kids around. We were
regaled with all the ways the soldiers would throw rocks and pour
hot oil on the enemy trying to breach the castle walls when knights
were bold.

We took the ferry across the Channel to Calais, France on Monday.
The museums we had wanted to see were closed for the winter. It
was a damp, chilly day and we could find little to do on our own.
The French didn’t seem to want to help us out either. We finally
found a university student who may have wanted to practice his
English to give us some directions. We saw some expensive shops,
but hardly dared to go in for fear one of us would break something
and have to pay for it. We did go to a bakery which had the fanci-
est pastries I have ever seen, and got something to eat. Later, we
stopped for coffee. The wine was actually cheaper. The coffee was
probably espresso as it was so strong that we could hardly drink it.
But, it was hot and we were cold. When we queued for the return
ferry, we waited to have our passports stamped. We could see the
clerk sitting at his desk, but he refused to do his job.

Finally, an English woman exclaimed, “Silly Frogs,” pushed
through the style and we all followed lest the ferry return to En-
gland without us. I think we had a good hot meal on the ferry, but
that day was the low point of the vacation. The day before we were
going to make the last leg to Nigeria on their national airline, we
were in the Holiday Inn laundering our clothes and packing up our
purchases. Lou stayed with the kids to enjoy the swimming pool
and let me go to Kew Gardens on my own. It was then that I found
how well-timed the Tube was. Every time we had taken the kids on
it, we would miss the train and have to wait for the next one. But,
when I went alone, I would walk from one to the other to find the
train waiting with the doors open. Kew Gardens was fantastic. I
was especially struck by how they had planted several vegetables
in a decorative display using the contrasting colors. I remembered
how in Mutiny on the Bounty, the Captain had collected so many

35

plant specimens that watering them took precedence over the thirst
of the crew. Obviously, there were plants from all of England’s
once vast empire in those Royal Gardens.

We were introduced to the frustrations of the Third World trying to
get there. First of all, the shuttles from the hotel to the airport sel-
dom went to that section of the airport. The mission had arranged
for our team to fly somewhat together, so we recognized several
of them in the boarding area for the Flying Elephant, Nigerian
Airways Logo. We saw people trying to take ornate lamps, baby
cribs and other household items on the plane. British que; Nigeri-
ans mob. How could so many people get on one plane? Well, one
was canceled and without explanation, they were trying to get as
many as they could cram aboard one. So many people were push-
ing by us that the mission team formed a phalanx so that we could
get to the desk. They allowed us four seats only, since 4 year-old
Lynelle was supposed to sit on a parent’s lap. They did the same to
the Ellen’s family who also had a daughter her age. Betty Vreeman
and another single missionary volunteered their seats so that other
families wouldn’t get separated. They had to wait till the next day.
The British woman who cleared us for boarding seemed distressed.
I asked her what was the matter. “White people never fly Nigerian
Air,” she replied.

On the plane, there was a duty-free shop selling liquor and other
expensive items. They ran out of stuff only five rows down. There
was an outcry from others. Halfway across the Mediterranean, the
toilets were plugged up. Lou talked to a Nigerian onboard who was
a pilot for the airlines. He was perturbed because you could see oil
splattering from somewhere onto the wing of the plane. We were
more thankful than usual to land safely.

Then, when we got to the Sudan Interior Mission in Kano, the lady
told us we had no reservation and could not stay. We said that we
had nowhere else to go and would stay in the lobby all night. She
got us a room. The next morning I was greeted by Lynn Dykstra

36

Koetje whom I had taught at MCHS! They had not been at the
meeting in Grand Rapids, perhaps because she worked for the
mission hospital in Mkar. Her husband Dave was a teacher, though.
I don’t remember how long we stayed in Kano, or how we got to
Jos. I do remember a tour of the Central Mission Pharmacy, re-
sponsible for supplying both SUM and SIM Mission Hospitals.
There was an old fashioned set of wash tubs that had a hand op-
erated agitator and a wringer. I asked what they were going to do
with the set and since they didn’t plan to keep them, I asked to
have them and they gave them to me. Once the whole group had
arrived in Kano, a bus from the Education Ministry came to take
all of us to our stations. “Board of Educaction” was misprinted
on the side of the oversized van. Even Lisa and Shawn noticed
the misspelling. We arrived at last in William Bristow Secondary
Schoo, Gboko, Benue state.

I wondered at first how I was going to get food for my family.
What did they eat here? Where could you buy it? Mysteriously,
we received an invitation for dinner from one family after anoth-
er, but never twice for the same night. I learned later when there
were other newcomers that a list was passed around to sign up to
have them over for dinner. This introduced us to the missionaries
who were there and to the food that was there. We could ask them
questions on how to live in this alien place. This system supple-
mented the stateside week orientation, which, good as it was, could
not prepare us for every detail, nor describe everything both good
and bad about the place we were going to make our home. It was
so different from anything at home, even though there were basic
similarities. I decided that if we have such a hard time describing
a different culture and place on our own planet, that for Christ to
have described heaven for us in more detail would have been im-
possible. It is enough to know that we will be with Him and free
from sin and its effects.

Before school began, our barrels were delivered to us. It was like
Christmas. Indeed, it was probably close to Christmas Day. Ever-

37

yone said that they had had to wait and wait for their barrels to
come. In fact, since we were delayed, our barrels had gotten there
before we did and were a problem to the mission who had to
explain why we weren’t there to collect them ourselves. Another
provision. By this time, I had forgotten everything we had packed
and was very glad to have all of it. We were ready. We didn’t
have a vehicle yet, but did have the use of a mission vehicle to
get Lisa and Shawn to the airstrip near Mkar eight miles away so
that they could begin boarding school. They thought they were
big stuff, going to school on a plane flown by Gordon Buys. They
each had a duffel bag packed with their sheets, spread, clothes and
other belongings. We could not see them for six weeks according
to the policy so that they would adjust to living in a dorm with
house-parents. However, that had not registered with them. Soon
after they left, and after we had taught for a while, we had to move
to a bigger house. This was one of four built by some of the first
missionaries at Bristow and was between the principal’s house and
the guest house. Corrie and Warren DeBoer lived just on the other
side of the guest house. It was really a great house and had many
features the other one lacked that we liked.

I must tell you about one of my first days of school. After about a
week after school was to start, the entire student body had finally
arrived and we could hold regular classes. As I approached the
classrooms, I noticed many children climbing in a tree. When they
saw me, they all swarmed around me. It was so surreal that I had
to stifle feelings of panic. Then I realized that they all wanted the
privilege of carrying my things into the classroom for me. The
second shock was when I got into the classroom. As soon as they
realized that the teacher was there, they stood beside their desks
(which they called lockers because they locked all their books in-
side) at attention and said in unison, “Good morning, Madam.”

Wow! I never remember having to tell anyone to be quiet or rep-
rimanding anyone’s behavior. That is because each class of 40
(sometimes more) elects a captain and an assistant who are in

38

charge of discipline. They could make the kids get buckets of sand
to fill the potholes in the road or get on their knees with their arms
held out! But, it made for a very ideal teaching situation with ev-
eryone behaving. All their assignments were written in notebooks
of about 60 pages. When I had to collect 40 of them to correct at
home, it was quite an armload. But, I took a market basket and
someone always offered to carry it home for me.

What about Lynelle when we were teaching? We had hired a house
boy who cleaned and took care of her. She soon was visiting Corrie
DeBoer whose daughter Lisa was about three. We would have
said that Lisa DB could not talk. But, apparently, she and Lynelle
talked a lot together. Even Corrie thought she didn’t talk. Lynelle
was small for her age and didn’t look like she was four. But she
was very observant. When she watched Corrie in her kitchen, she
would tell her that her mom did a kitchen task differently. Corrie
even told me that she learned a thing or two. Just little things. We
grew quite close to Warren and Corrie. We had even met them the
summer before we left home. They had been on tour on their fur-
lough and spoken at Bethel Christian Reformed Church just down
the road from us. Of course, the people there had to tell them about
us and where we lived. So they stopped by to chat and introduce
themselves. We didn’t know then that we would literally be next
door neighbors. I remember Warren saying that you had to be a
little bit crazy to like it there. At least you had to have a sense of
adventure and be ready for new things. He was right.

SOCIAL LIFE IN NIGERIA AND LASTING FRIENDSHIPS
Every Friday night we and the De Boers would alternate hav-
ing the other family over for supper. They taught us how to play
bridge, which we really learned to like. On Saturday afternoons the
mission personnel played volleyball at Mkar. On Sunday mornings,
we went to the Indigenous church which had been planted by the
mission. Trouble was that there were not enough preachers to go
around, or the one scheduled could not make it due to the constant-
ly changing conditions, lack of petrol (gas) and lack of telephones.

39

So, they would ask if anyone wanted to preach that morning.
Often, someone would get to the pulpit, open the Bible and read
a portion of Scripture and then not know what to say about it. Or,
go on and on about a pet peeve of theirs which made no sense to
us. But, everyone sang the hymns with great fervor. In the after-
noon, we would meet for a potluck and a church service with the
missionaries in Mkar. Someone had a set of sermons on tape from
back home. Yes, no CD’s or thumb drives. It was a series of 30
by one preacher all on Psalm 1. I was amazed at how he found so
much in those short six verses and NEVER GOT BORING. It was
a great routine and strong friendships were forged.

Pete and Betty Greidanus from Calgary, Alberta, Canada, distant
cousin of Stu Greydanus from New Jersey originally, who spelled
his name differently. Those were the only two couples we saw after
we got back home. Others we corresponded with for years, like the
DeBoers who went to eastern Canada.

On our way back home, we stopped and spent a Sunday with the
Ubels who had moved back to the Netherlands. We kept in touch
with Willem and Henny Berends, who now live in Geelong, Aus-
tralia. We long entertained the dream of spending at least a month
with them after retirement, but never realized it. However, the
Canadian Greidanus family drove down to see us a couple of times
and we went up to Calgary to visit them at least once. We have
seen Stu and Mary at least three times. Once when they drove from
Florida here after the kids were in college, once when we both
went to Ogden, Utah for the celebration of the meeting of the rails
nearby linking the east and west coasts by railroads 150 years ago.
A couple of years later, Sandy stayed at their home with Sharon,
(April 2021).

Being in Nigeria changed our attitudes forever. Nothing phases me
anymore. I can love anybody who needs or wants my love. I real-
ize STUFF isn’t important. People and relationships matter most.
On the other hand, I can say good-bye to Christians, thankful for

40

the time we were able to share together and knowing that I will
see them again in God’s forever kingdom. I am also very thankful
for the wonderful man God gave me that always sticks close by. I
know that I will miss him like no other person in the world, more
than mother, father or child when death separates us. I know, too,
that he will be there in heaven even though our relationship will be
different.

Were there hardships in Nigeria? There were frustrations of daily
living in a third world country and going back in time technolog-
ically. But there are also many compensations in a simpler life
with closer relationships with people. But there was one tragedy.
Our friends Stu and Mary had decided to start their family after
seven years of marriage. They had spent almost one weekend
every month with us and stayed even longer during the Christmas
and summer breaks when our children were at home. There was
even an extra room beyond the store room that was their bedroom
during those times. They became aunt and uncle to our kids. (Of
course, all the missionaries were family in many ways and all the
kids called all the adults aunt and uncle.) When their baby was
about a month old, they were at our house for a long time, and then
left late afternoon Sunday. We went to the weekly meeting and
when we got back, the local Filipino couple, Ding Dia who taught
locally and whose son Ding Dong, was Shawn’s boarding school
roommate, were at our door crying. Stu and Mary had been in an
accident and the baby had been badly injured. They were at the
hospital at Mkar. Mary had some cuts, but the baby needed to be
flown to a larger hospital in Lagos. The mission plane took them
there. The baby died within the week. Lou made a tiny coffin from
some black afara, a most beautiful wood. The funeral and burial
was in Mkar. They stayed with us until arrangements were made
for them to go back home.

In some ways, we could have stayed in Nigeria longer. But sever-
al things indicated that it was time to go back home to Montana.
Lynelle needed to go to boarding school, too. We looked into

41

another school in a lovely rural setting which cost less money, and
had longer holidays. But we didn’t want to send them all to board-
ing school, again. And they were not eager to go. The year before,
Shawn had tried his best to convince us to let him stay home. He
had said horrible things like “I hope the plane crashes on the way
to Jos.” and “I wish I had died instead of my brother.” Because
America had stopped buying so much oil from Nigeria, Americans
were not as welcome as we had been. Many other mission person-
nel and teachers like us were leaving. Through letters from our
dear friend Larry Senti, we learned that Lou’s teaching positions
had opened up. Through someone in the mission we got a message
through to MCHS that Lou was re-applying for his job. Word came
back circuitously that he had been re-hired. So we decided to go
home for good. Lou made a trip or two to Lagos to make sure we
could return via KLM rather than Nigerian Air. God had closed
another door and opened the window for us to return home.

The trip home was both an adventure and a vacation. We had sold
our truck and everything we didn’t need. We took lots of Nigeri-
an art work home for ourselves and for those who had supported
us when we were gone. Manufactured goods were so scarce that
strangers came begging to buy things, without even a garage sale
sign. The day after I sold Shawn’s long pajamas, I saw a little boy
wearing them on the street. The only thing that I took back on the
plane was my sewing machine which was slightly worse for wear,
needing minor repairs and a major cleaning when we got it home.

Traveling in Nigeria was always more difficult than in the United
States. Taxi rides were tremendously expensive for white people.
As we left the airstrip at Mkar, a number of our staff at school, as
well as many of our mission friends came to see us off. One of our
Indigenous staff prayed that God would go before us and behind
us. Gordie Buys piloted us to Kano in the mission’s Cessna 206.
As we landed, Buys recognized some Canadian friends landing di-
rectly behind us. They had VW kit cars which could easily accom-
modate us five and our considerable luggage. They brought us

42

to the SIM guest house in Kano. When we got there, the kids rec-
ognized one of their teachers from Jos. He gladly offered to bring
us to the airport the next morning. Behind and before.

The next day we awoke to the crows of roosters. Once at the
airport, we were checked in, but not allowed to board. Instead we
were herded into an upstairs room to wait. Many Nigerian dignitar-
ies, including a high-ranking English judge, stood with them on the
tarmac. He wore the traditional black robe and long wig. Although
he had to be extremely hot dressed like that standing under the
tropical sun on blacktop, he never gave any indication that he was
uncomfortable. Stiff upper lip of the British. Soon a small plane
landed; Idi Amin, brutal leader of Uganda, emerged, and they all
shook hands. After a short meeting, Amin flew out. We had been
penned up for several hours with nothing to drink except tonic
water. We boarded our KLM where the neatly uniformed Dutch
stewardesses were a welcome sight. After a while, the plane taxied
down the runway. As the wheels were retracted, the plane erupted
in applause. People were so glad to be going home and leaving
Nigeria.

Our first stop was Schiphol, Netherlands, once an old harbor, now
an airport near a seaport. The guards were stereotyping the exiting
passengers and just nodded at us to continue. We stayed in a hotel
where a Jewish lady, on a buying spree to get clothes for her grand-
children, noticed our children shivering. Although it was about
June 25, it was 50 or more degrees Fahrenheit less than we had
grown used to. She gave the children warm jackets to wear. When
I returned them to her room, she just told me to leave them outside
the door. People are so kind. We took a Grand Holland Bus Tour
on Saturday. Highlights were the Aalsmeer Flower Market near
Schiphol, a drive through much of the country where cows graze
up to the walls of factories. There were canals everywhere, even
above the ground. In driver’s ed, Dutch teens have to learn what
to do in case their car goes into one of them. Children as young as
eight were driving little boats down the canals. The highlight for

43

the kids was a miniature village of the Netherlands which had ev-
erything a small city would have, including the airport and the Ca-
thedral with a robed procession entering it for some high holy day.
And of course, canals and the quaint little drawbridges. Sunday, we
visited the Ubels for dinner, took an afternoon drive and went to
the evening church service. I immediately recognized the inside of
the building as a prototype for every Christian Reformed church I
had ever been in, and felt at home.

Later that week, we flew over the channel to London where we
spent a few more days. We felt confident taking off on our own
with a four day transportation pass for buses and the TUBE. We
had discovered Paddington Bear children’s books in Nigeria and
read a few of them to Lynelle. We found the flea market that Pad-
dington loved to go to. There we split up, girls with me, Lou with
Shawn. When we met as arranged, Lou had bought a lion’s head
handle for our front door, and I had bought a matching door knock-
er! Another time we split up with Lou and Shawn touring a plane
museum and the girls and I seeing a doll museum.

BACK IN AMERICA
Landing at O’Hare International, we were struck by the appearanc-
es of Americans. They were fat compared to Africans and Europe-
ans. And the “blacks” were hardly black at all. Then, we were met
by a host of relatives, it seems. It was almost July. The fireworks at
South Holland Park were spectacular. We spent much of July shop-
ping to replace some of the household goods we would need again,
and outfitting the kids with total wardrobe replacements, having
outgrown almost everything in two years. Lou’s mom had gotten
new dining room furniture and had saved her old set with a side-
board for us. We went to Michigan to see Will and Janie there and
gave them a small pair of carved ebony heads. Will had saved our
bacon by getting replacement keys for our truck after my wallet
had been stolen at the market. We saw other friends as well. Will
also had a snowmobile trailer he sold us. Lou got plywood and put
sides and a top on it to tow all our stuff back home behind the used

44

Buick we got at Schepel’s. Things were so plentiful and cheap
in Chicago compared to Montana. The month of July flew by. It
was time to head west. We were ready. We had tapes of Copland’s
Rodeo and Grofe’s On the Trail and played them all the way back.
Lynelle told us later that she had forgotten so much of Montana
that she didn’t know what to expect. Shawn and Lisa’s excitement
reassured her that it would be good.

We really felt we were getting close to home when we stopped at
the rest stop near Big Timber, saw the Beartooth and the Crazy
mountain ranges and smelled the pine/sage scented air. But, when
we got back, our renters were not even remotely ready to vacate. I
don’t know where we stayed those first few days, but, when I men-
tioned our problem to my friend Elaine Bruxvoort, she said, “No
problem, we are going on vacation tomorrow for two weeks and
you can stay at our house.” The parsonage.

During that time Lou helped the Sikkenga’s get their newly ac-
quired mobile home ready to move into and and actually hauled
some of their stuff over there with the pick-up that he’d bought
from Danhof’s. Two weeks left to get our stuff out of the basement
and settle in and get ready for school. We bought a chest freezer
for the yearly garden and the game he shot that fall. We soon began
work on adding a bathroom with a shower to the basement and a
stall to the garage. We paid for it all with cash that we sent home
through the mission. We also added insulation to the house when
we put on new siding and roofing.

The adjustment to life in the states was difficult. The staff hired in
our absence seemed almost hostile to us. Wasn’t that odd? Some
of our staff friends had moved on and we missed them. The kids’
peers at school would not listen to any of the stories they wanted
to tell of their time abroad and that hurt them. Shawn would do
better than the girls did as he found two or three kindred spirits to
hang out with. Lisa did have a friend in Lynne Faber who was the
daughter of her Jos dorm parents. We liked Harry and Eloise Faber

45

and had spent some holidays with them on the mission field. They
were planning to end several years with the mission. They knew
they did not want to return to their old home in Pipestone, MN, but
did not know where to go. We had told them that they would love
Montana, and that, as he was one of the mission’s top mechanics,
Joe Danhof would hire him for his Chevy garage. They did come
and check it out, and Joe did hire him. Somehow, the six of them
camped out in the one bedroom apartment of the “teacherage’’ until
they could find something better. They built a home, living in its
basement while they finished the main floor. They had three strong
teenage boys older than Lynne to help.

We built a new circle of friends once we were in the groove. Larry
Senti, Lou’s painting partner in the summer as they spray painted
many a barn in the valley, was the center of it. His wife Janet had
three cousins, Steve, Tom and John Heersink, and their wives be-
came part of it as well. Bob and Jean Selles rounded out the group.
I got closer to Elaine Bruxvoort and Ann Kooima, who became
like sisters I could visit anytime. Thora and Tanya were still in the
picture. In spite of all that, I still had a hard time because I was job-
less. And now Lynelle went to school, leaving me alone at home
everyday. I went to the library and found lots of books to help, but
they didn’t. I went to job service, but never really did find a good
job. I did work the potato harvest for Dan Kimm, but that didn’t
last past October. One of the things that was given to me was to
teach a family of 12 Vietnamese children English as a second lan-
guage. I also did quite a bit of substitute teaching for both Manhat-
tan Christian Schools.

As the year went by, we and some friends on the faculty as well as
the Bruxvoorts were feeling scrutinized by the community. This
proved to be more than our imagination when contracts came out
with Larry, Lou, and Bob Onderlinde (third grade teacher) receiv-
ing contracts with conditions to be met in the following year. They
were very vague and so subjective that there would be no way to
measure compliance. We learned later that the janitor, who had

46

personal reasons for fearing and disliking those teachers, had start-
ed a campaign of lies and rumors to discredit us in the community,
who trusted him rather than the principal. Growing up in Chicago
had made us quite skeptical, and we made light of the conditions
and decided to stay for now, find something else in the meantime.
Bob and Larry were deeply hurt and chose to quit. Larry and John
Heersink bought a business they had not thoroughly researched
and lost all they had after a year. Onderlinde went to work for his
wife’s family business in Western Chicago. We wondered why our
principal had not been willing or able to defend us to the board. A
year or two later we learned that he himself was on shaky ground
and he and two other faculty members were ousted. The Brux-
voorts also left soon after that year taking a call to Stony Plain,
Alberta.

Lou taught the following year, not caring at all what the board
wanted. Somehow, it was one of his best years. The seniors that
year decided to have him speak at graduation. In our 15 year
history with the school, that had never happened. He got another
contract with the board remarking how much he had improved, but
he ripped it up in front of them.

A NEW CAREER FOR LOU
No one knew that our friend Fred Dekker, manager of Darigold,
had promised him a job starting the day school ended. Less than
twelve hours after graduation, Lou was driving a truck for them.
That year they had the contract to supply Yellowstone with dairy
products and several days a week, he delivered to the major tourist
areas in the YNP. Linda and Harlan Kredit who had taught at Unity
with Sandy were there as usual for the summer. Their son Tim was
Shawn’s age and their daughter Kim was Lynelle’s age. A couple
of times that summer Lou would drop Shawn off to spend a week
with them and take Kim home to play with Lynelle for a week.
And then take Lynelle and return with Tim. Lisa, and sometimes
Shawn would rogue seed crops for Dick Hofman and other farmers
as did the older Kooima children. This involved a line of them

47

walking the rows and digging out any plant that was not the crop
to be harvested. That way the grain seed would be weed-free. Lisa
was now going to be a freshman. Knowing how unhappy she was
at MCHS, we told her that she was free to go to Manhattan Public
if she wanted. But she chose to stay. I was working for the Schutter
Seed company now, which proved to be more of a year-round job
working in the warehouse preparing commercial potatoes for ship-
ment on the railroad, sorting potatoes, and planting special experi-
mental potatoes in small plots in the spring. Lou was enjoying his
job and doing so well in his Bozeman route that began when the
tourist season in YNP ended, that they promoted him to manage a
new branch they had decided to begin in Salmon, ID. Fred Dekker
had been replaced, and had bought a music business he named
Music Villa. Thora ran a clothing store adjacent to it called Fred’s
Threads, and also did alterations there.

In the three years we lived in Churchill before leaving for Salmon,
I would often substitute teach at MCHS or even at Belgrade and
Manhattan schools. I would also work harvesting potatoes grad-
ing in the winter preparing them for marketing. I worked for the
Weidenaar’s at first, then the Kimm’s. But later I worked for the
Schutter’s because they had the biggest operation and spent more
time with the potatoes. It was tedious, but being part of the crew
and joking around made up for it. But, on the last day of planting,
someone cracked a joke and I laughed so hard that I wasn’t care-
ful about my hands and my right pinkie tip got nipped off in the
working parts. It didn’t hurt, so I got my hanky out and was prepar-
ing to wrap it up, when Janie Cook must have seen the blood and
said that I had better get to the hospital. Mr. John Schutter himself
took me down to the old Deaconess hospital. The medics asked
if we had the missing part of the finger. I laughed. I figured it had
been ground between the moving parts of the old fashioned potato
planter. (They were notorious for “trimming” fingers.) Then they
wondered why my hands were so dirty. They numbed my whole
arm while they worked on my hand, and that process was the most
painful of the whole ordeal. They wanted to sew the flesh together,

48

but it was so ragged along the nail, that they just cut it off at the
last knuckle. They kept me in the hospital overnight with an an-
tibiotic drip so I wouldn’t get an infection. The wound healed up
much more quickly than I thought it would. I thought the shorter
finger would slow down my already poor typing, but before long,
my brain adapted. And before long, we would move again. I began
packing up, Lou’s parents came to help pack and stay with the kids
for a while while I drove to Salmon to find a place to rent. Lou was
already staying in the motel and working there during the week.
Once we found a rental, each weekend he’d take a pick-up load
back with him.

SALMON, IDAHO
So once more, on July 31, Lisa’s birthday, we moved. This time we
again rented out our home. The rent we charged was the same we
paid on the one we rented. Lou had a blue Ford truck to use for the
business and made several trips with our things. But, we did also
hire a U-Haul and had help loading and unloading it. With the help
of a few locals that Lou hired, and our children, we had all the fur-
niture in place at the end of the day. It was a new, spacious house
in a great setting, but the colors were awful. The great room had
red shag carpet with orangish damask drapes, which I usually kept
open. The bathroom had that red carpet as well with cobalt blue
fixtures except for the turquoise tub which stood out into the room
attached to the wall near the drain. And there was a bidet.

In the year we stayed there, we made lots of good friends at the
young Missouri Synod Lutheran Church we decided to join. Many
of those people were in the Forest Service or teachers, and few
had extended families in the area. The church became everyone’s
family. We would go on hikes together on Sunday afternoons. For
Easter, we had a potluck at our house with seven card tables.

The visitors we had the next summer included Lou’s parents, my
parents, brother Dave and his new wife, Sue, and Ralph and Elaine
Bruxvoort. The latter had been traveling to see a lot of people and

49

were exhausted. I had set up beds for them in the basement, which
had no windows. It was usually Lisa’s room. I let them sleep the
following day and they were embarrassed that they slept until
noon. I had driven home that summer with the kids and Lisa stayed
with my parents. Dave and Sue brought her back. Lou had done
a number of special favors supplying ice cream to a whitewater
outfitter who reciprocated with the gift of a one-day trip down the
River of no Return on a raft with a return on a jet boat. Dave and
Sue got to go with us. What total fun. The weather was perfect to
jump into the river where it ran calm. In the white water, Lynelle
screamed in delight. I could have stayed in Salmon. But, there
really was not enough population to make a profit there. The Mor-
mon who distributed Meadow Gold, also peddled bread and other
commodities to stores to make his living. Lou cut into his profit
so much that he was ready to duke it out when their paths crossed
on one of their deliveries. Since Idaho required a business who
supplied a need to stay in an area, Lou told his board that if they
put Meadow Gold out of that market, they would have to stay even
though they would hardly break even. So, they made him manager
of their Great Falls plant. They were shutting down their bottling
there and making it a distribution depot. He had to sell the present
plant and secure a new site on the opposite side of town.

GREAT FALLS
The housing market was tight in Great Falls. We were able to rent
one of the ticky-tacky houses near North Junior High and fairly
close to C.M.Russell High School. The elementary that Lynelle
would attend for a year or two was also close by. Again, I was
without a job. I had hoped to get a job teaching, but 100 English
teaching jobs had been eliminated the year before. I did find a job
as an aid in special education classes, a job that I enjoyed and con-
tinued with the addition of becoming a homebound teacher for the
high school students for the district for as long as we lived in Great
Falls. A few years into this, the district offered a scholarship for a
Special Education degree. I applied and got it. By taking classes at
the College of Great Falls, and going to the University of Northern

50

Colorado, Greeley for two summers, I got my masters. When I re-
turned that August, I started looking for a job. I found an opening
in Augusta, Montana, 55 miles west of Great Falls. I applied for it,
interviewed and got it.

When Shawn was collecting for his paper route, he heard that the
postmaster in Augusta lived in Great Falls. I contacted him to see if
we could carpool. He wanted to drive all the time and only wanted
$50 a month. As he lived near our church, I would park in the park-
ing lot there and he would stop by for me. He’d drop me off at the
school in the morning, and I’d walk to the post office in the after-
noon. It worked out very well. I had almost an hour in the morning
to do some mental planning for the teaching day, and some time to
rest and plan the evening activities on the way home. I loved my
special ed students. There was one main one, and two part-tim-
ers. I also had to teach art to the eighth grade girls while the guys
were in shop class. To help my two eighth grade boys, I made
study guides, similar to those I had made in Nigeria, for their shop
lessons. The other boys in shop class wanted them too. I learned
that politics in a small country school are harsh in public schools
as well. The shop teacher and another teacher were forced out that
year. I would have loved to stay, and was invited to. However, Lou
was being transferred back to Bozeman, again.

I thought about staying with the single teachers who shared a
large house together and driving to Bozeman for the weekend, but
realized it would be hard for Lou and Lynelle, the only child home,
facing getting used to a new school. We put our house on the mar-
ket and had no trouble selling it.

Lou had to transfer in April, but I had to finish the year and the
kids did too. Lisa was already at Calvin College, Shawn had to
graduate. Lou stayed with Duke and Willie Logterman and looked
at homes during his lunch hours. Once he found one, he camped
out there and began moving things over each weekend. Same blue
Ford pick-up, courtesy of Darigold. He had been with them for
eight years, from June of 1981 to 1989.