If I Felt Alone

By Elaine Osborne

During the five Division E sewage spills (1980-1985), millions of gallons of raw domestic sewage invaded the Maki Swamp, along with toxic materials from hospitals, mortuaries, dry cleaners, printers, and other businesses. Most importantly, this toxic load was made of about 90 percent paper mill wastewater, all discharging into the Maki Swamp, affecting private properties and drinking water.This book is one woman's personal story of strength and perseverance with chemical exposures because of these chemical spills near her home in Esko, Minnesota.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781647015787

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Background

I’ve been sick for a long time, I thought as I helped a wheelchair resident back to her room. It was early spring, 1985, and the sun streamed through a long row of plate glass windows, filling the large dining area at the nursing home with radiant sunlight. The warmth of the sun felt good. Outdoors, everything was turning green, a sure sign of spring. Much welcomed after a long, cold, and dreary winter. Why then was I feeling so depressed?

The corridors seem exceptionally long. I feel so fatigued, but it isn’t even noon. It seems I never really feel good anymore. These thoughts ran through my mind. I’m waking up with a headache each morning, finding it annoyingly persistent during the course of the day, retiring with it each night.

I also had abdominal pains, felt nauseated, and vomited a lot, often upon arising. Diarrhea had become an almost daily occurrence. Frequently I saw spots before my eyes. They sparkled and danced around in kaleidoscope fashion. At other times, I felt momentarily like I might pass out, with a wall of blackness ebbing in swift as the click of a camera shutter. There were recurring bouts of the flu. I’d drink a lot of water to help flush whatever bug I had out of my system. Little did I know…

Perhaps I’ve been working too hard, or maybe was just stressed. I worked for Saint Louis County Social Services at the Chris Jensen Nursing Home, having transferred from Nopeming Nursing Home in 1984. Nopeming was another facility within the county’s system. I had worked for the county since the fall of 1979. Now they were talking of possible cutbacks. I had lost seniority making the move and knew I had some realistic fears in respect to retaining my position as an activity aide.

Staff were not replaced when they retired; positions were eliminated. One of the staff persons in our department was out on a workmen’s compensation injury. Positions throughout the facility were absorbed in the hope of preventing layoffs. I felt that we were pushed to the limits of our endurance. No wonder I would collapse when I got home from work. Or maybe this was what I could expect, a sign of my soon-to-be forty-seven years of age.

I am a divorced mother of two grown daughters. Bob and I divorced in October 1977. Sandy, our youngest (1967), was nine at that time and lived with me. Sherryl, our eldest (1960), had turned eighteen and was showing some independence. She chose to live with her father, explaining, He doesn’t have as many rules.

I’d been awarded our home by the divorce court. The day following our court appearance, Bob began construction on a new house for himself, building it within one-half mile of us and within sight of our original home—now mine. It was adjacent to the Osborne family homestead. The farmland was previously owned by Bob’s grandfather, who came from Finland and had passed it on down to Bob’s father.

When Bob’s dad grew older and had health problems, it was Bob who worked the land. So it should have been expected Bob would remain on the family property. But I was so distressed over our divorce that I had given no thought to that possibility. The Osborne property was, after all, a matter of great family pride. His parents had established their home in the early 1900s, and this was where Bob had been born and raised. Therefore, he had strong emotional ties to the land.

Divorce is hard on everyone involved. Yet for Sandy, our youngest, acceptance of the grief flowing from the divorce hadn’t happened at that time. She had free run between the two houses and seemingly chose to dismiss the whole situation or at least set it aside for the present.

For me, it was extremely trying living within eyesight of my ex-spouse. In September 1978, I sold the house. Sandy and I packed up and moved into an apartment in Esko, Minnesota. Esko, about seventeen miles south of Duluth, is a small town and, at that time, had a population of around 3,500.

Away from all that pressure, I felt like a guest in my own home. Sandy in turn was forced into acceptance, lashing out in anger. Her feelings stemmed from having to leave her father, home, friends, and her animals. Surely, the shock of our family unit coming apart at the seams was on her mind as it was on mine. Furthermore, she was feeling unaccepted at school, having come from a rival and much larger school system.

I could relate to Sandy. It was a difficult time for me also, saddened when I felt compelled to divorce Bob after almost nineteen years of marriage. I sought a job although I had been out of the job force for most of our marriage. Temporarily, I had held some short-term positions, but Bob had wanted me at home raising our children. Materially, he had provided well for us in a business he had established as a general building contractor.

It was important to let Sandy know I loved her and wanted to help her deal with her pain. We spent quality time together playing table games and cards, going for walks, and playing tennis. Then there was always our favorite—shopping and going out to lunch. Sometimes we’d take in a movie. I’d let her have new friends over and we’d make popcorn.

Although Sandy was a downhill skier, I was not. But together we enjoyed cross-country skiing, being fortunate enough to have beautifully groomed trails in our immediate area.

There was a cross-country outing with Bob’s sister, Eunice, and her daughter, Gale. They came from Minneapolis to spend a weekend with us in February 1979. Eunice and I had always been more like sisters, but after the divorce, there had been a brief pause in our relationship. Now once again, we had picked up our friendship. Gale was a treasured niece. As a young child, she would come to visit and help me with Sherryl and enjoyed beverage and cookies offered.

As a teenager, Gale spent time on her grandparents’ farm during the course of the summer. Bob and I were given a parcel of that property on which we had built our first home. We enjoyed having Gale over for dinner at times like those. There were always good memories of her and the times we spent together. So we were excited when Eunice and Gale said they would like to come for a weekend.

Sandy and I were living in the little apartment we acquired when we made our move to Esko. Our plans for their visit were to take in some cross-country skiing. I thought it would be fun to make a day of it by packing a picnic lunch. Maybe we could find a fallen log on which to sit and eat.

This was to be Eunice’s and my first attempt at cross-country skiing. Sandy, who, no doubt, had not ever cross-country skied before, showed us all up with her downhill skills. She was a real pro. Gale provided instructions to all. Coming to a little knoll, she suggested to Eunice and me that we remove our skis, the alternative being to herringbone up the small incline. Eunice took the lead; she hadn’t seen the necessity of having to remove her skis. Frankly, neither did I. I waited only a brief period of time before dropping in behind.

Eunice was doing well. Surely, I could meet the challenge. I started weaving up the course directly to her rear. Suddenly, she lost control sliding backward. My legs were in spread-eagle fashion; there was no time to retreat. I could visualize the conclusion in my mind, the two of us ending up in a heap. She came swiftly, and I broke into a fall as she swooped in under my legs. All I could do was to burst into laughter. It happened so quickly. What fun! We continued, undaunted, to our next encounter.

Secondly, I remember the view skyward lying on my back during my many falls, the beautiful white birch trees towering upward, their limbs tapering slightly, branches fingering outward into the vast blueness of the winter sky. It was exhilarating! Memories were made that day.

CHAPTER 2

Reestablishing Our Lives

It was my feeling that Sandy needed to establish herself in some way in her newly acquired surroundings. She expressed an interest in wanting to play in the school band, so I ended up purchasing a saxophone for her, a musical instrument of her choosing. She worked hard in band, eventually working her way up to first chair.

She also belonged to the school choir. Once again, Sandy had begun taking piano lessons, which she’d done in the past. Her father had purchased an old piano for her during the course of our marriage. We took it with us in our move to Esko. It hadn’t seemed like she’d taken her piano lessons too seriously, but apparently she had as she would often accompany the choir on the piano for concerts.

Perhaps she practiced while I was still at work. Most often, she would play the catchy little tune, Starlight Waltz, which I took as my cue to do an extremely energetic dance around the living room. It was such fun—lightly twirling attune to the music, coming down more heavily on the downbeat, all the while smiling and laughing. The whole scene was much to her dismay.

So after the initial shock and acceptance of our divorce and a different community and school system, Sandy made new friends and life in Esko became more acceptable. We never did plan to live in an apartment for more than a short duration. Initially, we wanted to see if we liked the Esko area. The school was nice and we were situated close to Duluth, closer yet to the Cloquet area. We would look for property in the spring.

My parents resided in Esko and were, perhaps, the determining factor in arriving at our destination. It was comforting to know that they were nearby. If ever, I needed some sort of assurance, and they would be there. If I felt alone, I could always run over for a visit and have a cup of coffee or a hot meal. There were other family members in the area: siblings—two sisters and three brothers. I would not be alone.

The spring of 1979 arrived, and with it came much excitement. The snow was gone, the trees and grass were green. I was able to access the probability of future ownership of one of the various properties I viewed. Some parcels did not have trees; for me, that could not even be a consideration. Totally unacceptable. I’m a person who takes great pleasure in the beauty of nature and wished to have it surround me. Could I see something with rocks and trees? I implored.

Additional undeveloped properties, with trees, were shown to me in the Esko area. There was one close to town. Another, on Maki Road, was rural in its setting, situated on a dirt road and just two-tenth of a mile off Highway 61 in Thomson Township. It was not only wooded, but scattered with glacially deposited bedrock outcroppings. Instantly, I had fallen in love with the huge majestic-looking pine trees and the bedrock that was scattered all around. This was more than I could have dreamed. The beauty of the land touched me deeply. Moreover, it was private. So in the spring of 1979, I purchased the property on Maki Road and waited until fall of that year to begin construction of our new home. In the meantime, there was much to be done.

CHAPTER 3

New Roots

To Sandy and me, a home was a most important factor. I wanted to reestablish our family unit, to provide roots for Sandy, and to have a place that my oldest daughter, Sherryl, could call home.

Being out in the country without the frills of city living, we found the necessity of drilling a well. Because of the rocky terrain, I opted to put in a mound septic system, unaware that the local sewage treatment plant had recently (November 1978) put into operation a 42-inches (diameter) pressurized line running parallel to Highway 61 and crossing under Maki Road.

Our well was drilled 105 feet deep. As it was drilled into slate rock, it had only 22 to 25 feet of casement. The well driller told me that as they drilled my well, the drill would drop about five inches at times, indicating large crevices or what were termed fractures in the rock. I had checked water quality with my nearest neighbors before acquiring the property, being intently aware of the importance of an adequate and safe water supply. The well water tested safe. I was pleased when, in addition, our water was clear, good tasting, and very cold.

The year 1979 was filled with adjustments. While still grieving the loss of my marriage, I attempted to help Sandy with the transitions she had to make in her life. Furthermore, I was planning for the construction of our home, checking out materials and supplies and getting estimates on it all.

All the planning that needed to be done offered a positive aspect to a very difficult time in my life. I’d found it near impossible to deal with my losses. But I absorbed myself in the exciting prospect of building a new house. My father had passed away in early February after a short bout with cancer, leaving an additional void in my life and more grieving.

The actual construction of our home began in September of that year, having hired my ex-husband as the building contractor as, by this time, I knew Bob to be a well-qualified, established builder. He was a perfectionist, and I could trust him to give me an honest and concise estimate.

Coinciding with the building of our home, I started a new position, hired by St. Louis County Social Services at the Nopeming Nursing Home just a short six-mile drive from my home on Highway 61. It was full-time, and I would be working in the business office, maintaining accounts for the residents.

CHAPTER 4

Home Sweet Home

Neither Sandy nor I had enjoyed apartment living, so it was with a new sense of freedom and gratitude that we anticipated moving into our new home, near completion. Although it was late November 1979 and just prior to Thanksgiving, we hadn’t let the fact that we had no heat in our all-electric home deter us. The electrician, who had done our wiring, suffered a heart attack during that period and was unable to complete the task. A nephew, who had assisted him on the project, showed up on Thanksgiving morning to connect the baseboard heat units—a work that had been so near completion.

It hadn’t mattered to Sandy and me that we had no heat. We were just happy and grateful to be in our own home. This home that we had dreamed about and had such high hopes for was, for us, a symbol of our newly established family status.

Our excitement level was high. Sandy was eager for the change, especially thinking about having her own bedroom once again. She picked blue as the color she wanted for her room.

The living room was a grayish blue. I needed to follow through with blue into the hallway as one of the walls in the living room was a common wall to the same area; it led directly to Sandy’s bedroom. This same blue, not unlike the sky, was used for all; it all melded together. Planning was half the fun. To have heat also would be perfect.

Although it was extremely difficult to train in on a new job through all this, I somehow managed to accomplish both tasks readily. Certainly, this was a turning point in my newly independent life. A time to test my own abilities, set goals, and look toward a brighter future. It helped to have the support of my family and friends.

Sherryl, Sandy, and I spent fun times together. Additionally, Sherryl and I kept the communication lines open over the phone. Yet despite all the positives and the passage of time, I found it difficult to let go of the grief I felt for the loss of my marriage. A grief that had been compounded with my father’s passing.

The position I held with the county was a civil service position. I was hired off the street, as the terminology goes. The civil service guidelines state an exam must be given. The top three applicants are then interviewed, one of whom is selected for the job. The exam would be given within the six-month period. If I were to be one of the three, the position would continue to be mine. I would then work toward the classification of a certified civil service employee.

Working at Nopeming was welcomed. I felt comfortable with the job and its responsibilities. Life was full of new challenges. I seemed to be able to meet them head-on. But at times, most often when I retired at the day’s end, I felt an overwhelming sense of panic, but only momentarily. It was times like these that my spiritual beliefs sustained me, the anxiousness moving out just as fleetingly as it had overtaken me. I would not succumb to it. I needed to stay strong and continue to make necessary adjustments and to dwell on the good things in life and turn my focus back to home and family.

I found I especially enjoyed the interior decorating that came along with acquiring a new home. Surprisingly, I discovered that I had some abilities in that area. It was exciting to access untapped creative resources, reaching new horizons as I was able to apply myself wholeheartedly into its concept.

I used a lot of wood in the interior. Barnwood was applied to a good portion of the living room. Most of its walls were wainscoted in this material; some were covered in its entirety. Wainscoting was also applied to some of the walls in the kitchen and bathroom. I scouted out some antique shops with my friend Betty, finding some treasures for the house. One of which was an antique leaded glass window, rectangular in shape. I requested that Bob install it in the bathroom, swinging it inward. The window, along with some additional wainscoting in a heritage mahogany, was a nice touch as it brought in the warmth of our wooded setting.

Additionally, I had wanted to add a little slope to the ceiling above the bathtub, hoping to bring in some characteristics of a much older home, a sharp contrast to most modern construction. This was easily accomplished, and it further softened the room. In the kitchen, I applied to some of the wall surface thin brick faces or slices—real bricks of about one-half inch thickness. I placed these bricks about three quarters of the way up the wall and used vinyl wallpaper above, capping off the look with a barnwood board just above the brick. So the house began to take on a personality of its own. It was a rewarding venture for me; the hands-on experience gave me a sense of confidence.

The house was inviting and offered warmth. Serenely set, it was nestled in a stand of mature Norway and white pines. What a wonderful sense of pride and accomplishment it offered us. We loved our home.

With a renewed sense of confidence (confidence that had escaped me as a result of my failed marriage), I once again had the fortitude to push forward. I’d found some renewal in working on the house but now needed to rediscover my self-worth and, perhaps for the first time, acquaint myself with the spirit within me. My individuality was based on knowing who I was and who I could be.

Continuing to lean heavily on the spiritual aspect of my life, it was time to take responsibility for my personal growth and just plain survival. It was a difficult process, I discovered, as I faced a lot of growing pains. Even though I had initiated the divorce, I viewed the failure of our marriage as Bob’s rejection of me.

Having thrown myself into the decorating of our home offered a diversion to facing my pain. Although it was easy to get caught up in the excitement of it all, there was always reality to face when I retired for the day and, again, when I arose each morning. In waking, I’d experience the pain anew and, once again, would need to lean heavily on the Man upstairs to get me through each hour. Being on a job I enjoyed significantly helped to lessen that load.

CHAPTER 5

Recurring Bouts of the Flu?

Christmas 1979 arrived without the usual enthusiasm on my part. I had the flu. It was Christmas Eve day. A scheduled workday for me. Having made some preparations the night before, I knew dinner was under control. Sandy was on Christmas break and spending this time with her dad. It was my plan to go home from work at day’s end and finish preparing Christmas dinner for my daughters and myself. Sandy would catch a ride back up to Esko with Sherryl. The two of them would spend Christmas Eve with me and Christmas Day with their father.

Although my stomach was extremely volatile, I managed to stay on the job. It was a busy time of the year. Not only was it near time to be closing off the month, but there would also soon be the year’s end bookwork. It would be a task previously not encountered by me in this newly acquired position.

Besides, I was unaccustomed to ever coming down with the flu. I was sure it would pass