Vernon Olsen's Life story by Alexandra

Vernon Holmes Olsen was born on May 14, 1926 in Horton, Kansas. He had two brothers and one sister. Their names were Robert, Clair, and Doris. His parents, Hans Christian and Ruth, were both farmers. The things he remembered most about his childhood were doing chores around the farm and playing in barns with his friends. The chores he did were anything needed around the farm, like fixing things, taking care of the animals, and volunteering to help others. He said “They were all skills you used the rest of your life.”

His hometown, Horton, was very small. It had a population of about 700-1000 people. Vernon went to a one room school house with no electricity until high school. The war started when Vernon was 15 years old. He remembers sitting around the battery powered radio with his family listening to updates on the war. When Pearl Harbor was bombed, he was at his grandparents. “I remember looking at the adults seeing their reaction of what was going on. It was a little bit mysterious to me what was going on.” While most of the jobs he had before he entered the service included farm work, he also drove the school bus. He drove it his junior year in high school and it was actually only a bread truck with benches for the kids.

He graduated from high school when he was 17 years old. He could have joined the service right then, but he decided to take a year of choice and stay home to help around the farm since so many people were overseas. In 1944, when he was 18, he was drafted. He chose to be in the Navy, mainly because his father and uncle were also in the Navy and it had left an impression on him. When he left on a train for Leavenworth to get sworn in, he said leaving his parents was a very sad moment.

He traveled all over the Midwest on trains for training. He had never been outside of Kansas before, so his new surroundings were very strange to him. But, he said that everyone in other towns were very nice and helpful. He also traveled on electric lines from Chicago to Milwaukee. The training lasted two to three months and he was taught how guns were built and how to maintain them. The advanced training was in Dearborn, Michigan, at a plant where guns were made. Even though he hadn’t known anyone at the beginning, he made friends with people close to his bunk. Everyone was organized alphabetically, so he had lots of friends whose last names were close to O in the alphabet.

After training, he was shipped overseas on a troop ship that held four to five thousand troops. It took about 30 days and they stopped a lot for fuel, water, and food. One of their stops was at Pearl Harbor after it had been attacked. He said, “That was quite impressive to pull into Pearl Harbor and see all the sunken vessels and the damage that had been done already.” His first assignment was in Okinawa, Japan and then he went to Inchon, Korea. Those were just the first places though.  He also served near Manchuria, Korea, the Philippines, and Japan. He went to a lot of these places in winter, so it was very cold. He also served at the helm for a little bit, where he got to steer the ship through the Formosa Straight off the coast of China.

His main duties were to keep the guns clean, as his rank was Gunner’s Mate 3^rd Class, keep the deck clean, paint the ship, and watch out for mines. Once the war was over, his duty was to preserve the guns because they weren’t being used anymore. Of all his duties, the most life endangering one was to watch out for mines, which were bombs in the water that would explode if the ship hit them. If he saw one, he would tell the person steering the ship so they could react and someone could shoot it with a 20mm gun until it sunk or exploded. One time while he was doing this, he saw a mine and the person didn’t have time to react. He explains, “I can see it like it was yesterday. I often dream about it because it was so vivid, to see this mine and what goes through your mind, and I look down, BUMP, and it didn’t go off. I was so lucky.” Had the mine exploded, he wouldn’t be here today.

He was still serving after the war ended, and what his ship mainly did after the war was take the Japanese back home to Japan from China and other neighboring countries. The Chinese were still killing the Japanese at the time, so they were saving them by taking them home. One of his most challenging trips was traveling 500 miles up the Yangtze River to pick up the Japanese. He said “Here we were fighting one week and wanting to kill them and two or three weeks you would change your heart and want to save them! Isn’t that strange?” He was never injured, but the scariest moment for him was being in a typhoon. It was very bad and they had to stay out in the water and on the deck of the ship because it was safer.

He wrote a lot of letters on victory mail in his free time. The letters were censored to keep their whereabouts a secret. He thinks the letters were delivered pretty fast, but he only got his mail at certain ports, so when he got it, he got a lot at a time. The letters he received really meant a lot to him because it was nice to hear about things back home. He wasn’t ever really scared while overseas. He just thought of it as his duty. While fear was there, duty overcame the fear.

In 1946, after two years of service, Vernon got to return home. He was very happy about being able to come home and see his family. The only medal he received for his service was the Victory Medal, but he also had badges and stripes on his uniform showing battles and places he has been. Almost right after he got home, he went to college at K-State. The Navy paid for all four years of his education in Agriculture and Engineering. After college, he had a career in seed researching and sales. He is married and has 6 kids. Now, he is retired and likes to play golf in his free time. When asked if he was proud he was able to serve his country, he says, “Absolutely. It changed my whole life.” He said it opened his mind to all different types of people and cultures.

Vernon Holmes Olsen is my grandfather, and I am really glad I got to interview him. I learned a lot about his life. I had always heard bits and pieces of stories of his wartime experiences, but never gotten the whole story. It made me realize that being in the Navy was a big part of his life and is a big part of who he is. I am very proud to say that my grandfather served in World War II!

Thanksgiving 2010

 

     Our Thanksgiving was great as always although a little more "complex" this year with the grandbabies.  I always make a menu, a la Mom, to put on the fridge.   But this time I had to do it in the form of a work schedule  (i.e. 7:30 a.m. put turkey in oven)  because this year, we had to eat at exactly noon as Kenny Jr had to leave at 1 to go to work.  No prob.  But...it didn't take long for me to realize I had failed to enter quite a few tasks on the list.    

     Every year, all the young guns have their "Turkey Bowl"  touch football game at sunrise so Travis asked if we could watch Tanner since Brille had to work.  "No prob"  I said.  So he dropped the baby off at 6:30 a.m. and Emily came over at 7 with Max.   No prob.  Mom did it with six kids under foot so we could do it with two.  Right?  I would just have to dig deep into my working past and brush off my dusty multi-tasking skills to manage the menu and babysitting.  I borrowed Debbie's roaster this year for the turkey and I had it sitting on the counter.  It only took five minutes after Max had arrived to realize that it would have to be moved as his little arms could now easily reach up and touch it.  Luckily, it hadn't been plugged in yet...because I was already late on my task list because Tanner's diaper needed to be changed.  The top of the washer in the laundry room we decided would be a safer place and as Ed was plugging it in, the fuse blew.  I looked at the clock and it was 7:30 and no turkey in the oven. Tanner looked at me and said with his cries that he was hungry for his bottle and ready for a nap.  No prob.  I did what I used to do at work.... delegated the job to Emily.

       While she was feeding Tanner, we thought Max would get into watching the Macy's parade quietly in front of the TV.  All those big balloons and pretty floats.  Nope.  He wanted to play with the cordless answering machine.  When the receiver is lost, it can be found by pushing a button and making a very loud BEEP BEEP BEEP  to find it.  Of course, that was more fun than watching some silly parade on TV...although Tanner didn't like it much because he couldn't go to sleep with all that racket. 

     So, we sent Max and Ed off to the park to watch the guys play football so we could get a quieter house and get back to the list on the fridge.  No prob. The turkey was finally in at 8:05 and I hadn't used this roaster before but I crossed my fingers (and the turkey wings) and hoped that it would be done in time.   Rachel was up now as she had worked till midnight the night before.  Two and 1/2  cooks in the kitchen (sounds like a TV show) back on task.  (The 1/2 was me because Tanner, of course, decided to only take a 30 minute nap today of all days).  We had Christmas music on the radio, flour on our faces a baby on my hip and we were rotating items in and out of the oven with precision and grace.  Although there was a slight delay in rotation when one of the desserts took longer to cook because we had used a smaller pan than recommended. (my bad.)  Emily kept saying "Mom it's still jiggly in the middle". No prob I said  We'll just call it the "Jigglin' George" cake named after the new contraption that Mom and Dad have acquired. 

     In the end, we ate at 12:15 which wasn't too off track.  The meal was de-lish.  The sweet potatoes were a big hit which was surprising because I had totally not followed the recipe (accidentally on purpose  a la Mom).  Nothing was burnt....including little fingers.  No one was hurt....except Brett who came back from the game gimpy from a tackle (I thought it was touch football???) and we got to relax and enjoy the rest of the day.  Ahhhhhh.  No prob!

 

 

 

 

 

The famous green station wagon by Matt

If we only could get back that station wagon!  Here is what I remember our family truckster looking like.   Mini vans weren't invented yet so this is the best we could ask for to haul the big Olsen family of 8 in.  I remember the door in the back that would open from the side or fold down.  I also remember the back window rolling down electrically from the front.  In the very back was a seat that came out of the floor and faced the back window.  Of course two of us boys always got stuck riding in this seat.  The three girls got stuck riding in the middle seat.   That always left the front seat between Mom and Dad open for whichever boy was not in the back.  Of course riding up front was always better than riding in the very back.   We used to try to get into trouble to have to sit up front or to say we were car sick.  Everyone thought we made up getting car sick  but have you ever rode facing backwards in the very back of the car?  I remember we always wanted Dad to roll the back window down when we went somewhere but the fumes coming out the exhaust always choked us up so we didn't get to do that very often.  The only time he would open it up was when Huey would drop one of his bombs!

410 guage single shot shotgun by Matt

This is the famous shotgun that Dad made all of us boys learn the ropes of hunting with.   When we turned 11 years old, this was the first gun we could carry on the big hunts.   Up to then,  the only other gun we got to carry before this was our Daisy BB guns.  This was a big step and we all couldn't wait for the day we got to carry a real gun.   We all counted down the days until our big 11th birthday.  The only problem was this wasn't really a real gun either.  We didn't figure this out until we started hunting with it however.  It was a 410 and it couldn't kill a rooster if you were 5 yards from it.   The shells were skinny and small.  The other problem was it carried only one shell.   If you look closely at the picture,  before it would shoot you had to pull back the hammer on the top before pulling the trigger.   Now we all know when a rooster flies up you have to be quick.    There was no way you were going to be able to pull the hammer back,  aim and shoot and expect to hit anything in real time.   But that was the rule.  Brian got to use it first,  then came along Chris, and finally Matt.   Dad was pretty smart.  He knew this gun couldn't hurt anything or anybody so that is why we had to all carry it until we were old enough to buy a real gun like a 12 gauge.  We learned to be safe with it and always point the barrel to the ground just in case it accidentally went off. 

I remember we all had to buy are own first real gun.   Brian started the mess by buying his therefore Chris and I didn't stand a chance of not following suit.  It took me a while to collect enough money to buy one so I was stuck with the 410 for quite awhile.  To this day Brian and I still have our first 12 gauge shotguns.  We paid our own hard earned money for them.  Huey being a gunsmith traded his off and who knows where it is now or what he got in exchange.   I think he traded off the famous 410 shotgun also and it wasn't even his to trade.  I think he ended up getting one of those old junker cars he used to drive in the early years..

Nyquil is the new Vix by Nancy

There is no modern pain medicine as effective as a mother’s kiss.”

It hits me the night before Emily is going off to college.  I awake and realize that she is going to be over a thousand miles away!  What is she going to do if she gets sick?  Or…putting it more accurately….What am I going to do?

If she calls me to say “Mom I don’t feel so good.” I won’t be able to reach through the phone and feel her forehead for a temperature.  I won’t be able to check her breath and see if she has that “sick smell.”  Nor will I be able to feel her glands for swelling or kiss the “ow-ee” and make it better.  How was I to cope with this problem?

The next morning, I sprung into action.  I grabbed a latched plastic case with layers of little compartments inside, the kind a fisherman would use for a tackle box.  I went to the bathroom and started rounding up my “Dr. Mommy First Aid Kit.”  Of course, she would need all the usual things in case of an emergency (bandages, Tylenol, antiseptic cream etc.) but also things for all those little "ow-ees".  Let's see.  Tweezers for splinters, the Calamine lotion for a rash, the digital thermometer, Kanka for canker sores and of course, the Nyquil.  But when I grabbed the bottle, I saw that it was only half-full.  Oh No!!!  That would not work at all! 

You see….our kids have been raised on Nyquil since they were 4 years old…the legal age per the bottle’s label. (well, maybe we fudged one time when Rachel was only 44 months but who’s counting).  Nyquil is to Ed as Windex is to the father from that movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.”  Sore throat?   Give them some Nyquil.  Feeling achy= Nyquil.  Coughing, headache, can’t sleep? A little dose of Nyquil.  In-grown toenail, athlete’s foot, acne?  Nyquil at bedtime and everything is better by sunup.

I understood this “one-medicine does it all” philosophy as Mom had the same thinking.  For her it was Vix Vapor Rub.  I can truly say that every time I now open up a jar of Vix and smell that penetrating vapor go deep into my lungs, it is just like getting a long-distance hug from my Mommy.  There were so many nights when I was growing up that I remember sitting on a kitchen chair in front of the hot, open oven door with a towel on my head and Vix smothered all over my chest.....and for good measure... inside, outside and under my nose.  Now, that spells love with a capital L.  One time, I mentioned this to a friend and she said that her Mom had the very same cure-all, however, her Mom (who was a nurse) would also take a glob and put it on my friend’s tongue to make her feel better inside too.  Oh my!  Just as soon as you think your family is the most dysfunctional, you meet a kid who had no shoes.

So, after a quick trip to the drug store, the kit was now packed to the gills (excuse the fisherman lingo) with a new bottle of Nyquil and I even added a new jar of Vix (only opened once to check the smell mmmmmmm).  Emily now would be able to be doctored long distance…. which should have made me feel so much better.  However, as Ed and I drove away from her dorm, on the 1000-mile trip back to Helpless Land Arizona, why did I still feel so crappy?  As I was wiping away my tears, I asked Ed “How long do you think I’ll feel this bad?”  He patted my arm and said, “Don’t worry.  Take some Nyquil and you’ll feel much better by morning.”

Thanksgiving Day Memories by Chris

I think those of us who have memories from our early childhood and choose to remember them is a rubber stamp of approval for the parents that raised us.  Memories are always bigger and better then they were in real life...the house that seemed like a mansion was really a very small house when you return to see it years later. The tree you climbed that was so very big was not quite as big as you imagined. There is an artist by the last name of Peterson that draws pictures of places and then draws ghost images of what went on in the past.

My image is a farm house in Kansas on Thanksgiving Day.  In the front, there is a football game being played and a pile of young men and boys piling on someone with the ball. Through the window of the old house, over the pumpkin pies cooling, you can see the women huddled around the kitchen preparing the feast.  The screen door is being held open by an older woman with a bell ringing the sound that the meal is ready. On the porch are two hunting dogs one a white and orange English Setter with his ears propped up waiting for his master to say “kennel up”; the bell sound doesn’t faze him. The other dog is a large Black Lab lying, exhausted, full of burrs and he too waiting for the next chance to hit the field.  At the bottom of the stairs is a bowl of scraps recently set out. The cats and kittens unfazed by the dogs huddled around trying to get a bite and a pair of Siamese cats inside looking out the window wishing they could be outside. On the side of the house is a young girl hiding from someone behind a bush, presumably playing hide and seek.  On the other side the older girls with hoola hoops seeing who could “hoop” the longest and some swinging on a tire swing.  Off in the distant by a shed are the older men with hunting vests on cleaning pheasants and laughing about some story or joke just told. They are surrounded by farm animals waiting for a piece of the action. The drive way is bumper to bumper with farm trucks and vehicles, Indiana plates, Missouri plates and Nebraska plates. One is a green station wagon covered with dust probably from a recent excursion down a jungle road with the back window open and someone peeking out before they are found.  To the right there is a large barn with a loft full of hay.  A pen full of Black Angus cattle and pigs off to the right surround the barn. There are goats, ducks, and geese of all kinds wondering around the place.  To the left of the house is a large field of freshly cut milo and off in the distant sky in all directions are flocks of geese, Snows and Blues and Canadians. The house is in dire need of repairs, the mailbox on the road in front is bent to the side with the words “The Olsen’s”, a welcome place to be on Thanksgiving Day.

Jungle Road. Our Family Secret. by Gail

 

There is a family secret that my family holds and I've held it in much too long. Forgive me my brothers and sisters but the world must know.

In the very heart of mid-America lies what my Father called "The Jungle Road".  Yes, I know what you must be thinking but it's true and I'm here to tell you about this frightening road found only in Kansas.

I never dreamed my Dad could find this mysterious jungle but he always did.  Now, you would think a horrifying trip into the jungle would terrify all of us but not Mom.  For her, it was all about timing not fear.  She was always focused from the moment she got into the car.  First,  putting in then taking out her bobbie pins that held all her spit curls.  How she kept composed listening to all our OOOH's, Ahhh's and sometimes whimpers I'll never know.  I never knew a human mouth could hold bobbie pins but she was a master at it.  She could even hold straight pins in her mouth, but that's another story.

Our family trips first started with "dibs on a window". When you are one of six kids on a road trip, your own window somehow made the trip even better.  A window seat back then in comparison today would be like an Ipod.  This adventure was always accompanied with "Are we there yet?" The fact that we lived in Missouri and it could only be found in Kansas lets you know that something had to be said for parents with patience.  I truly believed my Dad belonged to this secret club or fraternity because he was the only one in our family that could find this secret road.  Must have something to do with his Kansas heritage, you think? It came with chilling anticipation and was always abruptly found.  A quick turn as our family station wagon went from pavement to gravel. The sound was deafening, yet terrifying, then followed by a huge smile on my Dad's face. He had found it "the jungle road".  Our noses were pressed against the window of the car with eyes as big as marbles and occaionally there would be a whimper from one who will remian anonymous. (Sorry whimper person.  You know who you are but I respect you.)  The rest of us just wouldn't blink or breathe;  it would fog up the windows.  As the dust kicked up behind the car Dad would say "Oh look over there....or did you see that?" 

Now, a real jungle road could mean lions, tigers and bears but remember we are in Kansas. So,  it was for us an occasional sighting of a pleasant, quail, jack rabbit, deer, possum, raccoon, skunk, horse and sometimes a big bull.  Somehow this jungle road in the middle of Kansas lifted us beyond "are we there yet" and made a life long memory.  Yes it's true, two parents with six kids could secretly and strategially make the last 30 minutes of a long trip to the relatives an amazing adventure we will always remember.  Not to say what it did for my mothers hair!