In Memoriam

Some light reading to get you in the mood for this post:

"Nothing but Death" by Pablo Neruda

"I Have a Rendezvous with Death" by Alan Seeger

"Go Down, Death" by James Weldon Johnson

"Death, Be Not Proud" by John Donne

"After a Death" by Tomas Tranströmer

"Age and Death" by Emma Lazarus

Today we rose and shone early to hit the road for Dad and Beverly's. Our plan was to visit Mom's grave and place flowers there on behalf of us and my sisters, Cathy and Sandy. Then I wanted to take Susan and the girls to some area cemeteries and show them the headstones of some of their relatives, both distant and not-so-distant.

We got distracted in New Town by our curiosity about the Four Bears Bridge attraction, past which we drive every time we use the new (well, as of 2005) bridge to get to and fro Dad's. A large chunk of the old bridge stands at the new version's west end and is surrounded by a park featuring benches, decorative concrete sidewalks, and several monuments with plaques explaining historical details related to the bridge, the Native American nations from the region, and their interconnection. A walkway winds from the park underneath the bridge to a pedestrian path across the river and into New Town on the north side of the highway (about four miles). It was cold and windy, and we had been later leaving Dickinson than I had hoped, but why not stop to explore and take photos?!

A section of the previous bridge looms over the monuments to the Native American cultures represented on the new bridge.

The new bridge with four native (small "n") Americans in the foreground.

Hillary standing on the decorative concrete walkway near the monuments.

When we finally arrived at Dad's, he was outside in the yard doing some work, so we visited there, and I got a good look at some fairly recent improvements to the house's exterior: refurbished front and back steps (from crumbling to solid faux-marble), blue metal roof, and repainted foundation.

This step used to be a deteriorating pile of concrete chunks and powder. Now look at it!

After dinner around noon, Susan, the girls, and I were off to the cemeteries. Our first stop was Bethel outside Battleview to place flowers on Mom's grave and visit Grandpa and Grandma Moberg's grave. There are several other Moberg and Aune relatives in that cemetery, so we took photos of their headstones, too. (In fact, the very interested among you readers may like to stop by our house when you have a free afternoon to view all the photos that I snapped in the cemeteries today! There are a lot . . .)

The wreath in the center is from Susan, me, and my sisters; the three bouquets surrounding it are from Suzanna, Abigail, and Hillary.

My dad's parents, Grandma and Grandpa Moberg

We went next to Lindahl between Tioga and McGregor to visit my uncle, then to Zion north of McGregor to visit a couple aunts and uncles, and finally to Scandia northeast of McGregor to pay respects to Grandma Roloff and several other Roloff and Hanson relatives there. There used to be a church at Lindahl Lutheran Cemetery, but it has been torn down and replaced with a doghouse-sized model, which had the girls curious (how could anyone ever have attended such a tiny church?!). They seemed to enjoy the stories I told about various relatives and neighbors as we encountered their headstones in each cemetery, and we have plenty of photos of the girls posing at this or that relative's tombstone.

Apparently the world's tiniest church!

At Scandia, Suzanna Marit Moberg poses near the headstone for my grandma Marit "Mary" Roloff.

At Dad and Beverly's, the girls had a good time playing with Bandy and "playing school" at the desks stocked with office supplies out in the heated garage. We visited and had a good roast supper and then headed for home at night. But wait: one more monument! The engraved marker commemorating the discovery of oil in ND just south of Tioga. We drive by it every time we make a trip to McGregor, so I made the ladies pose for one more photo in the cold. It was a less emotional visit than the other monuments throughout the day, though. We miss Mom very much, and stopping by her and my other relatives' graves brought back many fond memories mixed with sadness.

Daddy! (Dear Readers, those of you who are relatives, whom does Dad resemble?)

Beverly

Stone marking the Iverson well that made Tioga "The Oil Capital of North Dakota"