Al Batt, Tales from Exit 22

Life is short. Life is long.

Statistics show that people with more birthdays live longer.

She may be a century old, but old age has never caught up with her.

She remembers picking potato bugs off the plants and dropping them into a container of kerosene. She recalls a time when she was thrilled having new straw in her mattress. She has recollections of getting an orange or an apple along with a pencil for Christmas and being happy to get that.

Nora Hendrickson remembers many things. She has been blessed with not only a good memory, but also 100 years of living.

Nora was born to Ole and Martha Rugroden on a farm near Hartland on July 9, 1906. The farm was only 80 acres, so Ole did custom threshing, dug wells, and moved houses in order to make ends meet. She told me that her parents were great. &8220;We never had much money, but we didn&8217;t know we were poor.&8221; She walked three miles to town for school each day. Nora graduated from high school in Freeborn in 1924 &8212; that was because the high school in Hartland closed in 1923.

The Hartland School had four rooms. One room held grades 1-3, another room held grades 4-6, the third room housed grades 7-8, and the fourth room was for the students in grades 9-12. She had tremendous teachers, but one wonderful teacher stood out. That was an educator in Hartland named Inga Siblerud. Inga had such a great impact on Nora, that Nora became a teacher. She had three sisters who also became teachers. Nora went to Normal Training in New Richland for one year and later got her degree at Mankato State College. When she began teaching in 1925, her salary was $65 a month, but she paid $20 a month for room and board.

She grew up with five sisters and a brother. They had no bicycles or ice skates, but they had a wonderful home. Her mother cut up her own wedding dress in order to make Nora a dress for a school play. Nora grew up playing such games as Fox and Goose, Duck-Duck-Gray Duck (in Iowa it was called Duck-Duck-Goose), Nip, Anti-I-Over, Captain May I?, Kick the Can, Hide the Thimble, and Button, Button, Who&8217;s Got the Button? Today she plays Scrabble and dominoes.

Nora says that she cannot remember–either as a student or a teacher–of ever not wanting to go to school. As a girl, she would stay home from school one week each year to pick corn by hand. The ears were pulled from the stalk, the husks were removed, and the ears were tossed into a wagon.

Nora taught in country schools and in Albert Lea. She felt that the hardest part of teaching was getting to and from school. She said that the most important quality of a teacher is to love children.

Her widowed great-grandmother came to this country from Norway on a sailboat with her four sons and a daughter. The daughter was Bertha Marie, Nora’s grandmother. The family ran out of food while on the boat, but others kindly shared their food. Nora remembers her great-grandmother carding wool while smoking her corncob pipe.

Nora&8217;s husband, Ernest, worked on building the Alcan Highway in 1942 (it runs 1,523 miles from Dawson Creek, British Columbia to Fairbanks, Alaska), helped construct an airport in Greenland, worked for Hartland Township, helped drain Rice Lake near Hollandale, and worked at Wilson & Co.

I asked her for any advice she might pass along. She replied, &8220;As long as I am on earth, I might as well make the best of it.&8221;

The world has changed a lot in 100 years. As a teacher, Nora helped change the world in good ways. Spending time with Nora confirmed what I have always known. First, you are young; then you are middle-aged; then you are old; then you are wonderful.

Books

I looked up from my reading recently, amazed where the book had taken me. I have been an aggressive buyer of books since the very first time money crossed my palm. My enduring love of reading began early. I grew up in a family that read often, usually with the radio supplying background. I continue this habit today. I have a feeling of prosperity when I am in possession of books. My boyhood time spent in the library were golden hours. &8220;Winnie the Pooh,&8221; &8220;The Wind in the Willows,&8221; and &8220;Alice in Wonderland&8221; made my imagination dance. The library was a vast sea of words that I was happily put afloat upon.

(Hartland resident Al Batt&8217;s column appears every Wednesday.)