A Letter to My Grandchildren

By Terry Dignan

Life is a journey that has many wonderful stops along the way. Some days are life changing, and may lead to incredible joy. The author was able to have such a day early in his life. The result of that day has led him to believe that he has been the luckiest person in the world.

There have been many changes in the world during the life of the author. This book outlines for his grandchildren, how his world has changed and how he has seen the world change. Hopefully, they will experience a multitude of positive changes as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483665696

Book preview

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Copyright © 2013 by Terry Dignan.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013912801

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4836-6568-9

Softcover 978-1-4836-6567-2

Ebook 978-1-4836-6569-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Photos on the cover were taken at The Old World Wisconsin Museum in Eagle, WI and Scurek Farms, LLC in rural Elkhorn, WI.

Rev. date: 08/24/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter One

Life On The Farm

Chapter Two

My Grandfather Thomas Joseph Dignan, Sr.

Chapter Three

My Michigan Cousins

Chapter Four

My Minnesota Cousins

Chapter Five

My Daily Life On The Farm

Chapter Six

The University Of Minnesota

Chapter Seven

Yale, Michigan

Chapter Eight

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

CHANGES IN MY LIFETIME

Chapter Nine

My Years In Education

Chapter Ten

My Second Career

Chapter Eleven

My Involvement With Kiwanis

Chapter Twelve

The Way That We Communicate With Each Other

Chapter Thirteen

The East Troy Times

Chapter Fourteen

Air Transportation

Chapter Fifteen

Race Relations

Chapter Sixteen

Changes In Farming

Chapter Seventeen

Changes In Our Family

Chapter Eighteen

Our Travels

Some Conclusions

INTRODUCTION

My inspiration for this letter comes from a book that Bob bought me several years ago. The acclaimed actor, Mr. Sidney Poitier, wrote the book. He was in his eighties when a great-granddaughter was born. He took on the task of writing a series of letters to her to explain the changes in this world, from his perspective, during his lifetime. His journey was much more dramatic than mine. However, I also have seen dramatic change during my lifetime and would like to share some of those changes with each of you. Along with the changes that have taken place, I will touch on some of the things that I have experienced that have touched my life—some deeply, some lightly, some happily, some with sadness, and some just because I remember them and would like others to know that they have happened. In many cases, I am sure the response will be Really?

Most epistles of this type start out with such things as birthplace, time, etc. My life has been a bit different as I often see myself as the luckiest person in the world. Therefore, I am going to start where that amazing streak of luck began. On October 12, 1961, I had a chance encounter with two young ladies in a park. It was Columbus Day, and back then, this holiday was always celebrated on October 12, not some convenient Monday that made it into a long weekend. A group of about eight to ten fellows from our dorm decided to go out and play a bit of football in the park across the street from the dorm. It was a beautiful autumn day, and studying was not the thing that interested us most on that day—or most other days, for that matter. As we were playing football, we noticed that two nice looking young ladies were sitting on a blanket, studying. They must have been freshmen, because the mature upperclassmen, as we surely thought we were, would not have been wasting time on books on such a beautiful day. After a period of time where we were hoping they would notice us, we realized that they really did not care about how wonderful we thought we were. So, we took matters into our own hands. It took a couple of plays, but eventually, my roommate Al Christiansen threw a very nice pass that was aimed at the center of their blanket. I was the intended receiver, caught the pass, and disrupted their study session. At this point, of course, we all had to stop and talk for a few minutes. The game was ready to break up anyway, as it was near the dinner hour. We made arrangements to meet them for dinner that evening in the dorm cafeteria, and the rest is history. One of the ladies was Miss Nancy Jean Carlson. She became my friend, my mentor in the English language, my confidant, eventually my fiancée, and finally my life partner. Without her, none of this fabulous journey would have happened.

As I begin writing this letter, we have been married for forty-six years, two months, and twenty-six days. On the day we were married, we had next to nothing except a car that was mostly paid for and worth about $300, our college degrees, teaching jobs in Yale, Michigan, and about $300 in cash. Today, we are financially very secure. So with that bit of background, perhaps I should begin in a normal fashion to discuss some of the changes I have seen.

CHAPTER ONE

LIFE ON THE FARM

When I was born on May 18, 1942, my parents lived on a very small farm just about six miles northwest of Finlayson, Minnesota. My older brother, Thomas Joseph Dignan III, was already on the scene, and everyone was to know that he was the anointed one. I was supposed to be the girl so that my mom would have help in the house while Tom would grow to help with the farm. My paternal grandparents also lived on the farm. There were two very small houses to house the two families. We had none of the comforts of modern life as people see life in the early twenty-first century. The cattle drank water from the stream that ran near the buildings, and from the stories that my father told of those days, that is also where he fetched water for the two houses. During the winter, one of the men would go out to chop a hole in the ice twice a day so the cattle could get water and so they could fill buckets for the houses.

There was no electricity. Many years later, we would visit the place that the homestead sat on while we harvested hay on a field located nearby. It is a pretty setting but, clearly, a very harsh place to try to make a living. One of the stories of our time living there that was shared by my parents related to the day our house had a significant fire. I was six months old at the time, and it was either late fall or early winter. That could have been any time from August first to January first in that miserable climate. When the fire was discovered, my mom wrapped me up and ran to the barn where she deposited me in the manger and went back to help Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma fight the fire. I have no idea where my brother was at the time, as he never seemed to be included in the story (or maybe I just did not listen). My guess is that since he was two and a half years old at the time, he might have been told to sit by me and not move. I am sure he would have been frightened enough to do that. The house must not have been a complete loss, as I was told that we only had to live with Grandpa and Grandma until the spring; then we moved back into our house. My brother James Patrick arrived in December of 1944. Tom would be five the next summer, and my parents decided that they needed a less primitive home. During the summer of 1945, we moved to the farm that my parents bought near Pine Lake, about nine miles west of Finlayson.

This farm had many advantages. The most important were electricity and a well. The well was in the barn so that the cattle could have access to drinking water at all times. The house was supplied with water by Dad or Grandpa carrying it to the house in pails. The house had three bedrooms (none with doors on them but, rather, curtains to separate them from other rooms) and a path. Yes, a path—not a bath. As we boys grew old enough to carry the water to the house, my mom would say that she did not have running water but, rather, walking water.

Another huge advantage was that the one-room elementary school was only a half mile down the road. Of course, the only way to get there was for the children to walk. Some children served by that school lived several miles away. The school served Brennen Township. In Minnesota, a township is an unincorporated area that is usually six miles by six miles. The school was near the center but also near the lake, which made it difficult for some to get there directly. In the winter, kids would walk across the lake and, at other times, would row a boat across the lake. However, my dad had other ideas. The children from that area went to Finlayson to attend high school, so the bus went down the road every day. Dad immediately started to agitate among the neighbors to close the one-room eight-grade school so all the kids would ride the bus and go into town. By September