Saturday, March 27, 2010

Ray

FO Ray_Color
I never met Flight Officer Raymond Christensen personally, but I’ve heard so much about him over the years that it’s hard not to feel close to him.  He was my grandfather’s best friend, and my grandmother’s younger brother, although my grandmother never talked about him much.  A gifted writer, with devilish good looks, and a sense of adventure, combined with a charming wit all equipped him to make a success of himself in his various undertakings.  His life, had it been longer, would have made an incredibly fascinating book.


Growing up in rural Beadle county, South Dakota, my grandparents and their siblings and friends “made their own fun.”  They  stopped up Cain Creek and made a popular “swimming Ruth_Lillhole”, and occasionally took my grandfather’s old Model A on a road trip. Ray and my grandmother, being less than two years apart, were naturally very close.  She was his trusted confidante, and vice versa.  But it was his friendship with my grandfather, Bill, that brought out the fun-loving sides of both of them.  Bill told how they went to the river and caught snapping turtles, and when they had several of them, they daringly positioned the tail of one in the mouth of another, and so on, until they had a Wagon Train of snappers, all “snapped” together.  They then, very carefully, got the first snapper to bite onto a cigarette and clench it between his jagged, razor teeth long enough for a picture to be taken. They learned new and creative ways to shock each other with the aid of an old magneto, an object that kept the boys occupied off and on for years.  No one ever truly knew what was safe to sit on, pick up, or even touch with Bill and Ray and that magneto around.


wheatfield
After high school, Ray worked as a farm hand in various midwest locations, until deciding he’d like to go to Agriculture school at the University of Minnesota, a decision that fiercely angered his father.  Going it alone, Ray sold life insurance for State Farm in Minneapolis to support himself and pay his tuition.  He was the first in his family to pursue higher education.  The photo on the left shows him grafting a hybrid wheat plant in the University’s wheat field. His “smarts”, as well as his determination, and his desire for something “bigger”, would have taken him far in the field of agriculture, had he gotten the chance.


World War II altered the course of many lives, and Raymond’s was no exception.  After three years of study at the University, he put his agriculture degree on hold and was accepted in an officer’s training school in the Army Air Force.  A letter to my grandparents, dated Feb. 20, 1942, reads in part:

“Started to school Saturday and like it O.K.  It will come fast but if they keep me in like they have in the past I’ll not only get it, but get fat too.  (The) Grub is swell … I’m learning typing – code – electricity and eventually radios.  If I pass I may get to be radio man on a bomber and fly all over heck…”

And that’s exactly what happened.  After completion of his program, he was assigned to the 417th Night Fighter Squadron as a radar observer with the rank of First Lieutenant.  He was one of a crew of two in an English Beaufighter, working with pilot Joseph Leonard.  Ray described the relationship between them as such -

“I’ve got quite a bit of faith in my pilot and we get along as well as anybody could … We’ve got to have perfect teamwork to live out this blessed war so we pay as much attention in our teaming up as we would to getting married - probably more. In this case “until death do us part” doesn’t seem to lend any humor to the situation whatever.”

beaufighter
The Bristol Beaufighter
Ray and Joe did well together – a “Stars and Stripes” article  gave Flight Officer Raymond Christensen credit for helping to bag a German plane in the North African war zone, in March of 1944.  

Letters continued to go back and forth between Ray and my grandparents.  A letter from Ray, dated May 5, 1944, describes the dangerous situations they faced on the island of Corsica, where Ray was stationed:
“When we go airborne we can look right into Herr Hitler’s back yard and make faces at him.  One of his little boys done foxed me the other night so here I sit on the end of the runway just awaitin’ to get revenge…”

rayflightsuitRay in his flight suit 

This would be the last letter my grandparents got from Ray.  Eight days later, he and Joe flew what would be their last mission.  The plane was located at the point of the red “X” on the map below, when it was last seen on radar, shortly before going down under enemy fire. Six planes were sent in a search and rescue attempt, joined by six more in the early hours of May 14, my grandmother’s birthday.  All they found was “much debris, an oil slick, and two life rafts.”

corsica

Ray was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart and Air Medal for his courage and sacrifice.  And that’s the end of his story.  But my mind can’t help but wander, and entertain the notion of what he might have done had he lived a full measure of years.  He took life by the horns, and he had some incredible gifts that will go forever unused. We’re left to wonder What If…

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Happy Valentine's Day - A Corny Valentine

A corny valentine from my grandfather, Bill Knutz, to my grandmother, Lillian Christensen, ca. 1931, during their courtship.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Esmond, South Dakota

    On the flat prairie of eastern South Dakota, there once thrived the bustling little town of Esmond.  I had lived in the general vicinity for many years, but it wasn't until I began my genealogy quest that I really learned of its existence.  Between my own personal research and research I've done for my various websites, I've encountered a lot of ghost towns, but despite having a population of zero, Esmond is far from dead.

    It started out with the name "Sana", and like many other small towns, was impacted by the westward-sprawling railroad tracks.  The town was moved 1/4 of a mile to be nearer to the railway, and renamed "Esmond" in the early 1880s.

    My connection to this area is through my great-great-grandparents.  Thomas Lafayette Graves, his wife Nettie Bell (Lair), and their four children pulled up their roots from Stark County, Illinois, bid adieu to their parents, siblings, cousins, and lifelong friends, and headed northeasterly to the small hamlet in March of 1906.  Tom was both a farmer and carpenter by trade, really a Jack of All Trades, working with his only son, Delbert.  They lived on a farm just a stone's throw north of town.

During their years there, Tom and Delbert built many homes and barns, and most notably, a large double-wide, two story building in Esmond. This building, known as the Big Store, housed a store on the main floor level, and an opera house/dance hall on the upper level (note the "T. L. Graves, 1911" at the top of the building).  We do not believe that Tom ever operated the store portion of the building, but he was responsible for many dances, and no doubt  good times, in the upper level.


When I first started researching this part of the Graves family's lives, I assumed I'd be disappointed with what little information I'd find, but I couldn't have been more wrong.  Several books have been written, with an extensive collection of photos published, and an annual Esmond Homecoming held during the summer.



On a trip back to South Dakota a few years ago, my mother and I made a detour through Esmond.  Despite both of us having been born and raised nearby, neither of us had ever been there.  Having seen the pictures of Esmond in its Glory Days, we hoped we might be able to see approximately where the Big Store might have been located.  As we drove down the ice-packed dirt road to toward what was left of the town, the spirit of residents long gone seemed to give us a warm welcome, despite the brutally cold temperatures of a South Dakota winter.  The gravel roads through the small town were packed with snow and ice, but, not about to be stopped after coming such a long way, we persevered, and were rewarded with signs on each lot, telling what business or home had been located there in days past.  Gazing down the street a couple of blocks stood what was left of the elevators by the railroad tracks, and suddenly, my mind flashed to a postcard I had showing the same scene, with busy townspeople all going about their business.  And just as suddenly, reality was back, and the elevators were delapidated, and the street empty.

    Every other summer, those wonderful souls who have taken responsibilty for keeping Esmond alive, hold an Esmond Homecoming, and one of these years, I'm going to make it back there to attend.  I want to go where my great grandmother went to school, where Nettie purchased her family's supplies, where Tom and Delbert laid brick after brick to construct the largest store in town.  I want to see the town streets full of people, and hear the bustle of activity, and for just a moment, experience the thriving little community of Esmond, South Dakota.

Sources:
"Home - Esmond, South Dakota"
"Remembering Esmond, South Dakota", 1996
http://esmond.santel.net/
http://www.epodunk.com/
Bonnie Guagliardi

Friday, January 29, 2010

Blogger's Best Friend Award



Thanks so much to Carol at Reflections From the Fence, for awarding me this fine honor!  She's been a great source of encouragement since I started this blogging thing, and I appreciate it very much.

Swiped from Carol's site: "The developer of the award 'Bandit' "A Blogger's Best Friend Award" says it shall be given to your most loyal blog readers. Thus, the award should be given to a follower of yours who takes the time to comment regularly on many of your posts. In addition his or her blog should be creative, funny and always entertaining. Upon receiving this award, pass it along to two fellow bloggers who fit this criteria."

I have to pass this on to Kathy's Kampground Kapers, and  Greta's Genealogoy Blog, with my appreciation.  :)

Karen

Friday, January 8, 2010

Thank you, Thank you

I'd like to thank Yaya, of Yaya's Changing World for the lovely Happy 101 Award.  I like it very much, but it's making me hungry.  :)

With this award goes the responsibility of naming 10 things that make me happy.  Shouldn't be too hard - the hard part will be stopping at 10!  Here we go, not in any particular order:

1) Getting a few minutes' peace and quiet to post to my blogs.

2) Watching my energetic little Tori so happy she breaks out in dance while she sings "Oh yeah!!"

3) Getting a genealogy goodie in the mail.

4) Working on my websites and getting HappyGrams from people who have found useful stuff.

5) Seeing my little Alyssa's face light up with a big fat smile when she sees her Grammy.

6) Getting a few minutes' peace and quiet to huddle up with my Bible and ponder what it has to offer.

7) Hitting the snooze alarm as many times as I want.

8) Watching my sweet Sierra with tears in her eyes at her gr-gr-gr-grandparents' graves, and seeing the love she has for people she never knew, but feels so much a part of.

9) Reading fun, insightful, newsy and touching blog posts, and getting to know new friends.

10) Seeing my husband's eyes sparkle when he laughs.

There you go. Now, I'm going to pass it on to 10 (again, hard to stop at just 10!) of my favorite bloggers, who haven't already received it:

Lessons from My Ancestors
Genealogy and Me
Reflections From the Fence
Writings by Abby
Greta's Genealogy Blog
Mom's Country Cookin'
Word Designer
Grace and Glory
Those Old Memories
The Ties That Bind

Sunday, January 3, 2010

My Irish Genealogy Treasure

    The best Irish genealogical "find" I ever got, or could ever hope to get, was not a photo, not a document, not any single piece of information.  The best asset to our Irish legacy was Uncle Jimmy.
  
    We already had land documents, plats, birth, death and marriage certificates, baptisms, etc.  We had plenty of facts about our Joyce clan of Hand county, South Dakota.  What we were sorely lacking was a depth to their beings - personal stories about them and their day-to-day lives - which Uncle Jimmy was more than happy to supply in abundance whenever family gathered.  Many of his childhood memories are grounded in the tight-knit Joyce clan on his mother's side of the family.  His stories told of tough times, happy times, stories of he and his young cousins stealing liquor and drinking under the porch at Grandpa Pat Joyce's farm home, family gatherings, and the old folks telling stories of their own and the boisterous laughter drifting across the South Dakota plains.  What he brought to our family legacy can't be duplicated in any courthouse or library.  He brought life itself to these folks long gone.

    Uncle Jimmy joined the ancestors last November.  How blessed we were to have captured some of his stories.  He was, indeed, our greatest Irish genealogy treasure.

Monday, December 21, 2009

The Oscar II


Weighing nearly 10,000 tons, the "Oscar II" cut through the waters of the Atlantic ocean at a speed of 15 knots, with over 1,000 passengers on most of her voyages.  She hauled thousands of Scandinavians from Europe to their destinies in America, until she was scrapped in 1933, after 32 years of service.  Among those Scandinavians looking for a better life were my grandparents, Adolph Hammer and his young wife, Agnes, and their 11 month old daughter, Mary. 

I've often wondered how Agnes must have felt on that trip.  Aside from being 7 months pregnant, and tending to a young child, I wonder if she was excited about their prospects in a new country?  What did she think of the spectacular New York skyline - did they, in some imaginative way, remind her of the fjords of Norway?  Was she was homesick for her father, mother and brothers?  Was she afraid she'd never see them again?  (She didn't.)  When she dreamed of their future, what did she envision?

How many young Norwegian women must have crossed the Atlantic with those thoughts in mind...